UNIVERSITY  OF 
AT   LOS 


GIFT  OF 

C • N .   Howard 


JOHN    B.    GOUGH 


The  Apostle  of  Cold  JVater 


BY 
CARLOS    MARTYN 

Editor  of  "American  Reformers"  and  Author  of 
' '  Wendell  Phillips;  the  Agitator"  etc. ,  etc. 


PRINTED    IN   THE    L'NITED   STATES. 


Neto  ¥orft 

FUNK   &   WAGNALLS   COMPANY 
LONDON  AND  TORONTO 
1893 

ALL  BIGHTS    RESERVED. 


Copyright,  1893.  by  the 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY. 

[Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England.] 


HV 


So 
Mite, 

dDercefces  fferrer 

JSooft, 


BncourageD  bg  ber  Counsels, 
an£>  pruned  bg  ber  Criticisms, 

fs 

and  (Bratefullg 
Dedicated. 


CONTENTS. 


PACK. 

PREFACE      ....         .  xi-xiv 


PART  I. 

SANDGATE     BY    THE    SEA. 

I.  Beside  the  Cradle 17-20 

II.  Early  Scenes  and  Incidents 21-29 


PART   II. 

THE    EMIGRANT. 

I.  Departure  from  Home 33~37 

II.  The  Farmer's  Boy 38-42 

III.  The  Young  Bookbinder 43-46 

IV.  The  Pauper  Funeral 47-52 


VU1  CONTENTS. 

PART    III. 

THE     INFERNO. 

PAGE. 

I.  Adrift 55-57 

II.  On  the  Stage 58-63 

III.  The  Adventures  of  a  Drunkard      .     .     .  64-70 

IV.  Delirium  Tremens 7I-76 

PART    IV. 

RECOVERY    AND    RELAPSE. 

I.  The  Kind  Touch  on  the  Shoulder      .     .       79-83 

II.  Small  Beginnings  of  a  Great  Career  .     .       84-91 

III.  Tempted 92-96 

PART   V. 

IN    THE    ARENA. 

I.  On  the  Platform 99-109 

II.  The  "  Doctored  "  Soda-Water    ....   110-114 
III.  "  Footprints  on  the  Sands  of  Time  "  .     .   115-135 

PART   VI. 

THE    FIRST    VISIT    TO    GREAT    BRITAIN. 

I.  The  Debut  in  London 139-151 

II.  "  How  Dear  to  My  Heart  Are  the  Scenes 

of  My  Childhood" 152-155 

III.  Here,  There,  and  Yonder,  in  the  British 

Isles 156-165 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PART   VII. 

AT    WORK    IN    AMERICA. 

PAGE. 

I.  "  Westward  the  Course  of  Empire  Takes 

.  Its  Way  " 169-171 

II.  The  Tide  is  Out 172-176 

PART   VIII. 

THE    SECOND     BRITISH    TOUR. 

I.  The  Court  of  Exchequer 179-185 

II.  Continental  Glimpses 186-189 

III.  A  Dip  Into  Ireland 190-194 

IV.  British  Morals,  Manners,  and  Men     .     .  195-206 

PART    IX. 

RENEWED     USEFULNESS    AT    HOME. 

I.  A  Change  of  Base 209-217 

II.  Fete  Day  at  "Hillside" 218-223 

III.  Footprints  of  Rum 224-231 

PART   X. 

\ 

THE    THIRD    ENGLISH    VISIT. 

I.  After  Eighteen  Years 235-246 

II.  The  Streets  of  London 247-258 

III.  A  Silver  Trowel ^59-261 


X  CONTENTS. 

PART   XI. 

THE    HOARY    HEAD. 

PAGE. 

I.  Old  Activities  in  New  Relationships  .     .  265-273 

II.  The  Philosophy  of  Temperance     .     .     .  274-291 

III.  Beggars,  Borrowers,  and  Bores       .     .     .  292-300 

IV.  Personal  Experiences  on  the  Platform    .  301-315 
V.   What  Manner  of  Man  Was  This?  .     .     .  316-325 

INDEX 327-336 


PRE  FAC  E. 


THIS  is  an  old  story  retold.  Mr.  Gough  has  writ- 
ten and  spoken  so  voluminously  and  charmingly  of  his 
life,  and  his  career  was  run  so  continuously  under  the 
public  eye  that  it  is  well  nigh  impossible  to  jot  down 
new  facts.  Nor  is  there  need  of  it.  His  experiences 
are  so  full  of  moral  warning  in  his  fall,  and  of  moral 
inspiration  in  his  recovery,  that  they  will  be  profit- 
ably rehearsed  for  generations.  All  that  any  indi- 
vidual- biographer  can  hope  to  do  is  to  group  the 
ascertained  facts  in  a  new  setting.  In  the  perform- 
ance of  this  task  the  writer  has  made  free  use  of  the 
existing  material,  and  here  confesses  his  special  in- 
debtedness to  Mr.  Gough's  own  records.  When  other 
and  related  topics  have  called  for  treatment,  other 
and  related  books  have  been  used. 

Although  of  English  birth,  we  have  appropriated 
Mr.  Gough  as  an  American  reformer.  He  was  an 
American  citizen.  His  home  was  here.  He  voted 
here.  His  public  career  began  and  ended  here.  And 
his  Americanism  was  of  the  most  pronounced  and 
lofty  type. 

John  B.  Gough  was  a  man  of  the  people — an   in- 
spired   mechanic.      He    began    life   at    the    freezing 
point    of   the    human    thermometer.     At   the  age  of 
eighteen  he   fell  below   zero.     Seven  or  eight  years 


Xll  PREFACE. 

later  he  rose  to  summer  heat,  and  produced  the  flow- 
ers and  fruits  of  summer.  He  maintained  this  heat 
and  fertility  through  forty-three  years,  and  died  at 
sixty-nine  degrees  Fahrenheit.  Such  a  life  is  in- 
structive in  all  its  phases.  It  carries  inspiration  to 
the  poor  and  miserable  and  blind  and  naked. 

Mr.  Gough's  career  as  a  reformer  was  based  upon 
his  personal  experience.  In  pleading  with  men  and 
for  men  he  obeyed  Sir  Philip  Sydney's  recipe  for 
poetry,  "  Look  into  thine  own  heart,  and  write."  His 
utterances  were  realistic  because  *  e  had  realized 
them.  He  touched  others  to  smiles  or  tears,  because 
he  was  familiar  with  the  grotesqueness  of  the  evil 
against  which  he  inveighed,  with  the  maudlin  laugh- 
ter, and  the  delirium  tremens  of  the  drunkard. 

To  this  fundamental  knowledge  of  his  theme  he 
joined  rare  powers  of  speech.  'Tis  difficult  to  classify 
him  as  a  public  speaker.  He  was  sui  generis.  God 
made  him,  and  broke  the  die.  He  was  a  whole  vari- 
ety troupe  in  one  little  form.  In  the  course  of  an 
address  he  enacted  a  dozen  parts,  with  such  fidelity 
that  the  last  seemed  the  best.  He  told  a  story  now 
in  the  Irish  brogue,  now  in  broken  German,  now  in 
the  Yorkshire  dialect,  and  the  hall  was  convulsed 
with  laughter.  He  made  an  appeal,  and  the  people 
were  intensely  stirred.  His  voice  sank  into  pathos, 
and  the  storm  broke  in  a  rain  of  tears.  He  turned 
upon  an  interrupter,  and  his  repartee  blazed  and 
burned  like  a  flash  of  powder.  He  had  that  wonder- 
ful power  which  we  call  magnetism.  He  used  the 
language  of  the  people.  He  spoke  all  over,  eyes  as 
well  as  hands,  face  as  well  as  lips,  even  his  coat-tails. 
And  his  earnestness  made  him  the  unconscious  hero 


PREFACE.  Xii'l 

of  his  own  cause.     Mr.  Gough__orLJ-h£_^latform  was 
an  histrionicexhibition  of  a  superlative  type. 

His  voice  was  not  particularly  sweet,  but  it  pos- 
sessed incredible  power,  and  ran  the  gamut  of  thought 
and  feeling, 

"  From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe." 

In  listening  to  him  one  recalled   Bulwer's  description 
of  O'Connell's  voice: 

"  Beneath  his  feet  the  human  ocean  lay 
And  wave  on  wave  rolled  into  space  away. 
Methought  no  clarion  could  have  sent  its  sound 
Even 'to  the  center  of  the  hosts  around  ; 
And,  as  I  thought,  rose  the  sonorous  swell, 
As  from  some  church-tower  swings  the  silvery  bell. 
Aloft  and  clear,  from  airy  tide  to  tide 
It  glided,  easy  as  a  bird  may  glide. 
Even  to  the  verge  of  that  vast  audience  sent, 
It  played  with  each  wild  passion  as  it  went: 
Now  stirred  the  uproar,  now  the  murmur  stilled. 
And  sobs  and  laughter  answered  as  it  willed." 

Is  it  any  wonder,  after  all,  that  such  a  man,  thus 
variously  gifted,  and  with  something  to  say  worth 
hearing,  should  have  held  audiences  breathless  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  for  nearly  half  a  century, 
with  no  diminution  of  his  power  whether  to  draw  or 
to  inspire  ? 

But  Mr.  Gough  had  other  strengths  besides  his 
gifts.  "  There  is  no  eloquence,"  said  Emerson,  "  with- 
out a  man  behind  it."  He  put  an  honest  character 
behind  his  words.  You  believed  in  the  man.  It  was 
not  a  mere  exhibition  that  he  gave.  In  the  midst  of 
his  wildest  utterances  he  maintained  his  balance.  A 


XIV  PREFACE. 

robust  common  sense  was  always  dominant^-  And 
there  was  a  highmoral  purpose  thaTcfignTned  his  very 
mimicry. 

As  a  tempejaa^c  IcadfetL^lj^Gough  has  not  been 
and  will  not  be  outgrown.  He  grasped  the  reform  he 
advocated  as  Atlas  did  the  globe.  And  he  put  it  upon 
the  indestructible  basis^ofinoral  suasion,  personal 
piety,  and  prohibitive  law. 

Have  we  gotten,  can  we  get,  beyond  his  ideal  ? 

Two  women  were  this  reformer's  guardian  angels. 
First,  his  mother  ;  when  he  lost  her  he  lost  himself. 
Next,  Mary  Gough  ;  when  he  found  her  he  found 
himself. 

'Tis  the  purpose  of  the  following  pages  to  show  how 
God  made  him;  how  drink  unmade  him;  and  how 
sobriety  and  a  moral  motive  remade  him. 

CARLOS  MARTYN. 
CHICAGO,  1893. 


PART   I. 

Sandgate  by  the  Sea 


The  influences  that  go  into  us  in  boyhood 
fashion  the  experiences  that  we  go  into  in 
manhood. 

—  CARLOS  MARTYN. 


I. 


BESIDE    THE    CRADLE. 

JANE  GOUGH  presented  her  husband  John  with  a 
bouncing  boy  on  the  226.  of  August,  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord,  1817.  In  the  hour  of  birth  the  mother 
cried,  and  the  babe  cried;  the  first,  in  pain,  the  second, 
to  start  his  lungs  (so  the  doctors  said),  ever  after 
in  good  working  order.  In  the  death-hour,  nearly 
seventy  years  later,  these  early  weepers  were  hushed, 
and  the  world  did  the  crying.  Birth — death  !  and 
between  the  two  the  unconsciousness  of  infancy,  the 
carelessness  of  boyhood,  the  recklessness  of  youth, 
the  sunlight  and  shadow  of  manhood — in  one  word, 
life  ! 

These  parents  lived  at  Sandgate,  in  the  county  of 
Kent,  England.  The  father  was  a  common  soldier, 
who  had  served  through  the  Napoleonic  wars,  first  in 
the  Fortieth  and  then  in  the  Fifty-second  Regiments 
of  Light  Infantry.  He  entered  the  King's  service  in 
1798,  and  was  discharged  in  1823,  with  a  pension  of 
twenty  pounds  a  year,  and  a  medal  with  six  clasps, 
commemorative  of  his  bravery  at  Corunna,  Talavera, 
Salamanca,  Badajos,  Pombal,  and  Busaco,  in  the 
Peninsula  War.  Unfortunately,  being  a  soldier,  he 
was  unfitted  for  any  other  calling,  and  after  his  dis- 
charge, he  found  it  hard  to  secure  employment. 
e 


l8  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

That  medal  was  good  to  look  at,  but  it  was  harder 
than  "  hard  tack  "  to  bite.  And  $100  (the  value  of 
the  pension)  was  a  small  sum  with  which  to  bridge 
the  chasm  of  food  and  clothes  and  shelter  for  a  twelve- 
month. 

Happily,  the  mother  was  a  breadwinner,  too,  in  a 
small  way.  For  twenty  years  she  taught  the  village 
school.  The  length  of  her  service  shows  that  she 
did  it  well.  Mrs.  Gougli  was  well  educated,  con- 
sidering her  position  in  life,  had  a  kind  heart,  pos- 
sessed a  gentle,  affectionate  disposition,  and  was 
withal  an  excellent  disciplinarian.  She  won  the 
hearts  and  commanded  the  wills  of  her  pupils  and  of 
her  children. 

John  and  Jane  Gough  were  a  devout  couple;  he  a 
Methodist,  she  a  Baptist ;  though  in  the  absence  of  a 
church  of  her  own  denomination  in  Sandgate,  she 
habitually  worshiped  with  her  husband.  She  had 
lived  in  London,  and  while  there  united  with  Surrey 
Chapel,  made  famous  by  the  ministry  of  Rowland 
Hill,  and  kept  so  by  that  of  Newman  Hall.  It  was 
that  metropolitan  experience,  no  doubt,  which  helped 
to  win  her  the  position  of  schoolmistress,  for  one 
who  had  been  to  "Lunnon"  was  stared  at  in  those 
days;  but  an  attendance  at  Surrey  Chapel  must  have 
been  a  sorry  preparation  for  the  rude  conventicle  in 
Sandgate.  However  it  may  be,  she  never  murmured, 
and,  after  the  manner  of  her  sex,  put  up  with  self- 
denial  so  that  it  was  changed  to  coronation. 

This  worthy  couple  decided  to  name  their  babe 
after  the  father,  John.  In  order  to  avoid  a  junior, 
Bartholomew  was  added.  So  John  B.  started  with 
an  honest  name  and  a  stout  pair  of  lungs.  Until 


BESIDE    THE    CRADLE.  19 

seven  years  of  age,  his  mother  taught  him  at  home. 
Then  he  trudged  off  to  the  neighboring  and  larger 
town  of  Folkestone,  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  to  a 
"seminary,"  where  presently  he  became  a  teacher 
himself,  if  you  please  (this  child),  and,  as  he  says, 
"initiated  two  classes  into  the  mysteries  of  learning — 
one  of  them  into  the  art  of  spelling  words  of  two 
syllables,  and  the  other  into  the  knowledge  of  the 
Rule  of  Three."  When  ten  years  old  he  left  school — 
his  education  finished!  Or  rather,  he  went  out  into 
that  greatest  of  schools,  the  world,  whose  teacher  is 
experience,  whose  text-books  are  hard  knocks,  and 
whose  terms  come  high. 

As  young  Gough  developed  certain  traits  of  the 
future  man  began  to  show  themselves.  Earliest  of 
all,  perhaps,  his  power  of  imitation.  He  had  a  sister, 
his  junior  by  two  years,  and  his  constant  playmate. 
She  was  a  master-hand  at  dressing  rag  dolls.  These 
he  would  often  borrow,  seat  in  stiff  and  starched  pro- 
priety in  front  of  a  chair  which  he  used  for  a  pulpit, 
and  then,  with  Bible  and  hymn-book  on  the  seat,  pro- 
ceed to  exhort  his  dumb  auditors — about  as  effectually 
as  his  clerical  patterns  sometimes  do  theirs  of  flesh 
and  blood!  When  church  was  out,  he  would  imagine 
it  was  Monday,  and  so  pass  to  a  Punch-and-Judy 
show.  Standing  in  a  bottomless  chair,  appropriately 
concealed  himself,  and  reproducing  the  peculiar  tones 
and  antics  of  Punch  and  Judy,  he  both  amused  him- 
self and  entertained  the  wandering  rustics  who  gath- 
ered to  see  and  hear.  Thus,  as  Joseph  Cook 
remarks,  among  his  earliest  playthings  were  a  pulpit 
and  a  Punch-and-Judy  box.  They  were  among  his 
last. 


20  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Side  by  side  with  this  mimetic  gift,  and  as  its  vehi- 
cle John  exhibited  rare  vocal  powers.  Ventriloquism 
was  natural  to  him.  He  read  superbly — was  the 
show-reader  of  the  town.  And  he  earned  many  a 
sixpence  in  that  way,  and  in  recitations  in  the  tap- 
room of  the  village. 

These  were  innate  characteristics.  They  implied 
quick  powers  of  observation,  a  sensitive,  impression- 
able nature,  and  the  ability  (which  Gough  had  pre- 
eminently) to  translate  feeling  into  exact  expression. 


II. 


EARLY    SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS. 

SANDGATE  was  then,  as  it  is  now,  a  watering-place. 
People  who  desired  to  get  away  from  "  the  madding 
crowd,"  or  who  wished  to  inhale  the  tonic  salt  breezes, 
or  to  sport  in  the  breakers,  but  whose  tastes  were 
quiet,  or  whose  purses  were  slender,  found  there  what 
they  wanted.  The  houses  were  strung  along  a  single 
street,  back  of  which  were  hills  which  were  gemmed 
here,  there,  and  yonder,  with  more  pretentious  man- 
sions and  grounds  of  the  gentry. 

It  was  an  historic  neighborhood.  Here  stood  the 
Castle  of  Sandgate,  built  by  Henry  VIII.  in  1539, 
which  had  been  honored  by  the  presence  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  half  a  century  later.  Near  by  were  a  dozen 
other  castles,  half  ruinous,  each  with  its  legend.  And 
not  far  away  were  Dover,  with  its  cliffs,  and  Canter- 
bury, with  its  magnificent  cathedral,  and  Folkestone, 
in  whose  High  street  stood  the  house  where  Harvey 
(who  discovered  the  circulation  of  the  blood)  was 
born  ;  while  away  there  across  the  straits  loomed 
France,  in  plain  sight  on  a  fair  day.  Jane  Gough 
before  her  marriage  came  hither  to  teach  school. 
John  Gough  was  stationed  near  by  with  his  regi- 
ment. Here,  therefore,  they  met,  married,  and  set- 
tled. It  was  a  happy  selection  of  a  residence  for 


22  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

young  John.     He  reveled  in  the  diversified  scenery 
and  associations  of  the  place,  and  found 

"...     tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything." 

He  haunted  the  Castle  of  Sandgate,  whose  keeper 
became  his  close  friend.  Speaking  of  it  long  after- 
wards, he  says:  "As  I  acquired  some  knowledge  of 
Bluff  King  Hal,  I  would  wander  through  the  court- 
yards, the  turrets,  and  the  battlements,  and  build 
castles  in  the  air,  and,  in  fancy,  people  the  place  with 
its  old  inhabitants,  and  see  plumed  cavaliers  and 
ruffled  dames  pacing  the  corridors,  or  surrounding 
the  groaning  board.  Katherine  of  Aragon,  Anne 
Boleyn,  Katherine  Seymour,  and  others,  flitted  before 
me;  and,  living  in  the  past,  almost  unconsciously  my 
imagination  was  cultured  and  my  mind  imbued  with 
a  love  of  history  and  poetry."  ' 

The  beach  was  another  favorite  haunt.  The  recep- 
tive and  dreaming  boy  roamed  up  and  down  the 
sands,  or  sat  in  physical  idleness  but  busy  thought, 
watching  the  white-winged  ships,  listening  to  the 
moan  of  the  sea — which,  like  himself,  was  subject  to 
ever-changing  moods.  Once  he  saw  an  East-India- 
man  wrecked  on  the  shore  before  his  very  eyes,  heard 
the  shrieks  of  the  passengers,  seven  hundred  in  num- 
ber, and  gazed  with  horror  upon  their  dead  forms, 
rising,  falling,  rising  again,  on  the  white  crests  of  the 
cruel  waves,  and  finally  washed  up  on  the  sands — a 


1  "Autobiography   and    Personal    Recollections    of    John    B. 
Gough,"  1871,  pp.  20,  21. 


EARLY    SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS.  23 

sight  which  gave  him  nightmare-visions  for  weeks 
and  months. 

The  people  of  Sandgate  were  fishermen — and 
smugglers.  The  duties  on  silks,  laces,  teas,  etc.,  were 
so  high,  the  coast  of  France  was  so  near,  the  passage 
across  was  so  easy,  the  fishing  boats  were  so  conve- 
nient, the  margin  of  profit  attendant  upon  landing 
dutiable  articles  surreptitiously  was  so  large,  the  love 
of  adventure  among  these  amphibious  folk  was  so 
strong,  the  nights  were  so  often  temptingly  dark, — 
that  virtue  yielded  to  such  manifold  temptation.  The 
beach  was  patrolled  day  and  night  by  men-of-war's- 
men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  to  prevent  smuggling. 
Many  were  the  struggles  between  these  guards  and 
the  Sandgaters,  with  various  results;  although  for 
the  most  part  the  smugglers,  aided  and  abetted  by 
the  whole  population,  got  the  best  of  it.  But  the 
snap  of  gun-locks,  the  whiz  of  bullets,  the  hurrying  of 
feet,  and  sometimes  the  presence  of  death  as  the 
result  of  these  skirmishes,  were  common  sights  and 
sounds  in  those  days.  On  a  certain  occasion,  young 
Gough  went  with  a  comrade  up  an  adjacent  hill  to 
kindle  a  beacon-light  as  a  signal  to  some  smugglers 
in  the  offing  to  run  in  their  goods.  The  boys  then 
ran  in  themselves — Gough  into  the  arms  of  his  angry 
father,  whose  hard-earned  pension  he  had  imperiled 
by  his  escapade,  and  who,  therefore,  soundly  boxed 
his  ears. 

The  boy  delighted  in  playing  soldier  with  his  father 
as  captain.  The  elder  Gough  was  nothing  loath, 
and,  with  a  broom  for  a  gun,  would  drill  the  boy  by 
the  hour,  and  then  end  the  lesson  by  telling  stories 
of  his  campaigns.  "  Here,"  he  would  say,  "  was  such 


24  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

a  regiment;  there  such  a  battalion;  in  this  situation 
was  the  enemy;  and  yonder  was  the  position  of  the 
General  with  his  staff."  The  boy  listened,  as  boys 
will  listen  to  such  tales,  and  seemed  to  feel  the  excite- 
ment of  the  battlefield  thrilling  along  his  nerves,  to 
smell  the  smoke  of  war,  and  to  swell  with  the  pride 
of  victory.  Thus  he  became  at  a  tender  age  a  veteran 
by  brevet.  'Tis  surprising  that  the  rampant  militar- 
ism of  his  surroundings — those  outlying  castles,  the 
constant  recurrence  of  the  petty  conflicts  between  the 
men-of-war's-men  and  the  smugglers,  and  the  object- 
lessons  of  his  father,  who  "  showed  how  fields  were 
won," — did  not  impel  young  Gough  to  become  a  sol- 
dier. Probably  nothing  saved  him  but  the  feminine 
delicacy  of  his  temperament,  his  dread  of  physical 
pain,  and  his  early  withdrawal  from  the  scene.  A 
soldier  he  did  become,  after  all,  though  of  a  grander 
type — a  moral  hero,  whose  campaigns  were  as  real 
as  they  were  bloodless,  and  whose  peaceful  victories 
were  "  no  less  renowned  than  war." 

John  was  a  fun-lover  and  a  fun-maker  from  the 
start.  Some  of  his  practical  jokes,  however,  brought 
him  into  trouble,  one  in  particular,  which  he  shall 
relate:  "A  dapper  little  man,  a  tailor  by  profession, 
attended  the  Methodist  chapel,  where  my  father  wor- 
shiped; and  his  seat  was  directly  in  front  of  ours. 
He  was  a  bit  of  a  dandy,  a  little  conceited,  and  rather 
proud  of  his  personal  appearance,  but  was  a  sad 
stammerer.  He  had  what  was  called  a  '  scratch  wig ' 
— a  small  affair  that  just  covered  the  top  of  his  head. 
One  unlucky  Sunday  for  me,  as  I  was  sitting  in  the 
chapel,  with  his  head  and  wig  right  before  me,  I 
began  playing  with  a  pin,  and  having  bent  it  to  the 


EARLY    SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS.  25 

form  of  a  hook,  found  in  my  pocket  a  piece  of  string, 
tied  it  around  the  head  of  the  pin,  and  began  to  fish, 
with  no  thought  of  any  particular  mischief,  and  doing 
what  boys  often  do  in  church  when  they  are  not  in- 
terested in  or  do  not  understand  the  service.  So, 
with  one  eye  on  my  father,  who  sat  by  me  intently 
listening  to  the  discourse,  and  one  eye  alternately  on 
the  minister  and  my  fishing-line,  I  continued  to  drop 
my  hook,  and  haul  it  up  again  very  quietly — when, 
becoming  tired  of  fishing,  I  gathered  up  the  line,  and 
resting  the  pin  on  my  thumb,  gave  it  a  snap;  up  it 
went;  I  snapped  it  again  and  again  very  carefully,  till 
one  unfortunate  snap  sent  the  pin  on  Billy  Bennett's 
head;  it  slid  off.  Then  the  feat  was  to  see  how  often 
I  could  snap  it  on  his  head  without  detection.  After 
several  successful  performances  of  this  feat  I  snapped 
it  a  little  too  hard,  and  it  rested  on  the  '  scratch  wig  ' 
too  far  forward  to  fall  off.  So  I  must  needs  pull  the 
string,  and  as  my  ill  fortune  would  have  it,  the  pin 
would  not  come;  I  drew  it  harder  and  harder,  very 
cautiously,  till  it  was  tight.  The  pin  caught  some- 
where. Now,  I  knew  if  detected  I  should  be  severely 
punished.  The  temptation  was  so  strong  to  pull  off 
that  wig  that  it  seemed  to  me  I  must  do  it,  my  fingers 
itched;  I  began  to  tremble  with  excitement,  I  looked 
at  my  father.  He  saw  nothing.  All  were  attentively 
listening  to  the  preacher.  I  must  do  it;  so,  looking 
straight  at  the  minister,  I  gave  one  sharp,  sudden  jerk 
— off  came  the  wig.  I  let  go  of  the  string;  poor  Billy 
sprang  from  his  seat,  and,  clasping  both  hands  to  his 
head,  cried,  '  Goo — Goo — Good  Lord! ' — to  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  congregation.  But  there  in  our  pew 
lay  the  wig,  with  pin  and  string  attached,  as  positive 


26  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

evidence  against  me.  One  look  at  my  father's  face 
convinced  me  that  'I  had  done  it'  and  should  'catch 
it';  and  'catch  it'  I  did.  My  father  waited  until 
Monday,  and  in  the  morning  conducted  me  to  Billy 
Bennett's  and  made  me  beg  his  pardon  very  humbly. 
Billy  was  good-natured,  and  actually  tried  to  beg  me 
off;  but  my  father  declared  he  would  '  dust  my  jacket 
for  me.'  And  he  did;  or  at  any  rate  would  have 
dusted  it  most  thoroughly,  but  he  made  me  take  it 
off — so  that  the  jacket  was  none  the  better  for  the 
'dusting,'  though  my  shoulders  and  back  suffered 
some,  and  it  served  me  right."  l  This  passage  in 
John's  life,  like  many  another,  illustrates  the  saying 
of  the  French  philosopher,  that  "  opportunity  is  the 
cleverest  devil." 

Occasionally  the  boy  was  sent  to  mill  with  a  bag 
of  grain — red-letter  days  these  were.  The  horse  of  a 
neighbor  was  borrowed  for  the  nonce,  a  blind,  lame, 
raw-boned  animal.  Mounting  this  Bucephalus,  he 
would  make  the  circuit  of  the  village,  win  the  admira- 
tion of  the  envious  boys,  then  amble  off  to  the  mill, 
and,  on  returning,  be  laid  up  a  couple  of  days  to  re- 
cover from  the  lameness  caused  by  the  joint  action  of 
the  beast's  case-knife  backbone  and  cobble-stone  trot. 

On  returning  from  school  in  Folkestone  one  day, 
Gough  received  his  death-blow,  actually.  He  was 
playing  stage-coach,  and  pretending  to  drive  four 
spirited  horses  in  the  presence  of  four  even  more 
spirited  boys.  "Get  up!  go  long!"  and  away  they 
went,  pell-mell.  Just  then  the  team  and  driver 
passed  a  laborer  who  was  in  the  act  of  throwing  up  a 


1  "  Autobiography  and  Personal  RecolU  ctions,"  pp.  38-40. 


EARLY    SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS.  2"J 

spadeful  of  clay  from  a  trench  beside  the  road  ;  the 
sharp  edge  buried  itself  in  the  side  of  John's  head. 
He  fell,  bathed  in  blood;  remained  unconscious  for 
days,  and  was  expected  to  die,  or,  if  he  lived,  to  lose 
his  reason.  Sad,  anxious  days  they  were  in  the  cot- 
tage of  John  and  Jane  Gough.  The  boy  was  spared; 
but  he  never  got  over  that  blow.  Fifty  years  after- 
wards he  said:  "To  this  day  I  feel  the  effects  of  it. 
When  excited  in  speaking,  I  am  frequently  compelled 
to  press  my  hands  on  my  head  to  ease  the  pricking 
and  darting  sensation  I  experience."  Eventually  that 
same  "  pricking  and  darting  sensation  "  struck  him 
dead. 

Among  the  formative  influences  of  Gough's  child- 
hood we  must  certainly  mention  the  annual  fair,  held 
towards  the  end  of  July,  on  the  village  green,  directly 
opposite  his  home.  The  gaudy  booths,  the  flaring- 
painted  canvas,  the  gaping  crowd — John  himself 
among  the  gapers,  we  may  be  sure — the  scene  made 
an  indelible  impression  upon  the  young  mimic;  and 
some  of  the  characters  he  portrayed  so  graphically  in 
after  life  he  saw  and  absorbed  in  front  of  his  own 
door-sill.  He  describes  the  sights  and  sounds — the 
mermaid,  the  pig-faced  lady,  and  spotted  boy  from 
Bottlenose  Bay,  in  the  West  Indies,  the  calf  with  two 
heads;  the  "ambiguous  "  cow  that  can't  live  on  land, 
and  dies  in  the  water;  the  greatest  saw  you  ever  saw 
saw  in  all  the  days  you  ever  saw;  the  swings,  the 
merry-go-rounds,  the  climbing  of  the  greased-pole, 
the  donkey  races  (the  slowest  donkey  to  win,  and  no 
man  rides  his  own  donkey);  the  clowns,  the  harle- 
quins, the  pantaloons,  the  columbines,  the  whole 
being  spiced  with  the  music  of  drums,  fifes,  penny- 


28  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

whistles,    cat-calls,     hurdy  -  gurdys,    bagpipes  —  the 
dread  of  mothers  and  paradise  of  children.1 

But  events  like  these  were  only  the  dessert  in  the 
dinner  of  life;  the  chief  part  of  the  meal  was  com- 
posed of  much  less  dainty  and  appetizing  morsels, 
according  to  a  boy's  conception.  John  had  his 
studies,  his  chores,  his  duties,  in  a  word,  which,  like 
Banquets  ghost,  would  not  "  down  "  at  his  bidding. 
His  temperamental  tendency  to  day-dreaming,  when 
he  was  not  engaged  in  mischief,  was  measurably  held 
in  check  by  the  prosaic  demands  made  on  his  time 
and  attention  by  school  and  work.  The  narrow 
means  at  home  drove  him  early  to  help  eke  out  the 
family  resources.  His  main  recourse  for  this  purpose 
was  Purday's  library — the  news  center  of  the  village. 
Here  he  made  many  a  sixpence  as  an  errand-boy,  and, 
perhaps,  quite  as  often  as  a  show-reader.  One  day 
he  earned  five  shillings  and  sixpence  in  this  way. 
Rushing  home  with  it  to  show  his  mother,  he  found 
her  in  tears.  The  larder  was  empty,  the  husband  and 
father  was  absent  seeking  employment;  the  poor  soul 
had  walked  that  day  to  Dover  and  back  (eight  and  a 
half  miles  each  way),  striving  in  vain  to  sell  some 
lace,  the  work  of  her  own  deft  hands,  and  now  it  was 
night — there  she  sat,  tired  out  and  hysterical. 

The  eager  boy  made  over  his  small  fortune  to  his 
mother  gladly,  although  this  disposition  of  it  spoiled 
his  "  Arabian  Nights'  "  visions  of  a  millionaire's  posi- 
tion and  expenditures,  and,  kneeling  down  with  her, 
thanked  God  for  the  timely  provision.  Then  Mrs 
Gough  gave  her  son  half  a  penny  for  himself.  With 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  43-44. 


EARLY    SCENES   AND    INCIDENTS.  29 

this  he  hurried  across  the  street  to  the  store  of  Mrs. 
Reynolds,  and  cried:  "Now,  Mrs.  Reynolds,  I  want 
a  farden's  worth  of  crups  (a  kind  of  cake)  and  a 
farden  back."  The  experiences  of  that  memorable 
day,  his  half-crown  piece,  his  willing  gift  of  it  to  his 
mother,  his  contented  exchange  of  it  for  the  half- 
penny, and  Mrs.  Reynolds's  "farden's  worth  of 
crups,"  with  the  "  farden  back,"  were  stamped  indeli- 
bly upon  Mr.  Gough's  memory.  He  often  told  the 
story,  and  has  given  it  a  permanent  record  in  his 
book  of  personal  recollections. 

One  summer,  the  celebrated  and  excellent  William 
Wilberforce,  who  had  made  the  emancipation  of 
the  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  his  life  work,  and  who, 
as  Lord  Brougham  said,  "  went  to  heaven  with  eight 
hundred  thousand  broken  fetters  in  his  hands,"  came 
down  to  Sandgate  for  an  outing.  The  elder  Gough 
took  his  son  to  a  prayer-meeting  held  at  the  lodgings 
of  the  distinguished  visitor.  After  the  meeting,  John 
was  called  upon  to  read  something,  which  he  did, 
winning  the  approbation  of  Wilberforce,  who  gave  his 
praise  tangible  expression  in  the  shape  of  a  book, 
which  he  inscribed,  and  his  blessing,  which  he  laid 
upon  the  lad's  bowed  head.  The  book  Gough  lost. 
The  blessing  he  kept. 


PART  II. 

The  Emigrant 


"  Farewell. 

For  in  that  word  —  that  fatal  word — howe'er 
We  promise  —  hope  —  believe, —  there  breathes 
despair." 

— BYRON,    The  Corsair,  Canto  I. 


I. 


THE    DEPARTURE    FROM    HOME. 

POVERTY  is  only  less  cruel  than  sin.  It  was  now 
about  to  force  a  boy  of  twelve  away  from  his  father's 
house  and  his  mother's  arms  across  the  sea.  For  those 
situated  as  the  Goughs  were  life  was  hard  at  best.  The 
present  held  no  comfort,  the  future  no  hope.  Daily 
bread  was  a  daily  battle.  Happily,  this  world-old  and 
world-wide  struggle  teaches  self-reliance,  promotes 
diligence,  necessitates  economy,  stirs  enterprise,  and 
is  intended  to  build  character.  This  is  the  real  ex- 
planation of  its  existence  in  the  order  of  divine 
Providence.  Most  of  the  strong-featured  characters 
that  have  marked  their  own  age  and  molded  succeed- 
ing time  have  been  disciplined  in  this  stern  school. 
"  I  thank  God,"  said  Edmund  Burke,  "  that  I  was  not 
coddled  and  dandled  into  being  a  legislator."  Lincoln 
floated  into  the  White  House  on  a  Mississippi  flat- 
boat.  And  the  heather  is  in  the  poems  of  Burns, 
because  it  was  under  his  eyes  while  he  held  the  plow 
in  Ayrshire.  But,  however  sweet  the  flower,  the  bud 
has  a  bitter  taste. 

John  Gough,  Senior,  had  his  pension.  This  was 
the  raft  under  his  feet — afloat,  though  always  wet. 
John  Gough,  Junior,  had  nothing.  He  could  aspire 
3 


34  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

to  nothing  higher  than  the  position  of  a  gentleman's 
servant.  Even  a  trade  was  beyond  his  reach,  for  that 
could  be  learned  only  by  the  payment  of  a  premium. 
Many  and  anxious  were  the  conversations  between 
his  father  and  mother  regarding  this  matter.  It  all 
ended  in  an  act  of  self-immolation  on  Jane  Gough's 
part.  Her  boy  was  her  life.  She  loved  him  so  utterly 
that  she  consented  to  send  him  away  to  America 
with  a  family  of  neighbors  who  were  about  to  immi- 
grate, and  who  ageeed,  in  consideration  of  ten 
guineas  of  the  King's  money,  to  teach  him  a  trade 
and  give  him  a  home  until  he.  should  come  of  age. 
She  consented  to  "This— not  without  an  agonizing 
struggle  with  herself.  But  her  son's  welfare  seemed 
to  demand  the  sacrifice.  A  useful  and  honest  life 
was  promised  beyond  the  Atlantic.  The  fact  that 
her  judgment  and  conscience  conquered  her  heart  is 
further  proof  of  the  strength  and  excellence  of  her 
character.  A  good  mother  is  a  true  saint. 

John  thought  it  was  a  lark — the  realization,  alas, 
came  later,  and  made  a  lifelong  tumult  in  his  breast. 

On  the  4th  of  June,  then,  in  1829,  behold  him  as  he 
mounts  the  night-coach  with  his  new  guardians  pre- 
paratory to  setting  out  for  London,  whence  the  party 
expected  to  sail.  The  four  shining  horses  paw  the 
ground  impatiently.  The  guard  in  scarlet  livery  lifts 
the  bugle  to  his  lips.  The  ostlers  drop  the  bridles. 
The  driver  cracks  his  whip.  They  are  off  !  Presently, 
as  they  reach  the  bathing-houses  on  the  sands  half  a 
mile  away,  John  sees  a  crouching  figure  behind  the 
hedge  and  recognizes  his  mother,  who  had  hurried 
thither  while  the  coach  was  being  loaded  in  order  to 
catch  one  last  sight  of  the  hope  of  her  life.  She  had 


THE    DEPARTURE    FROM    HOME.  35 

strained  him  to  her  heart,  held  him  off  at  arm's 
length,  and  then  clasped  him  again,  times  without 
number,  ere  he  left  the  house.  Now  she  caressed 
him  with  her  eyes  ! 

It  was  a  night  ride  up  to  "  Lunnon,"  this  of  which 
we  speak.  In  the  excitement  of  the  journey,  the  boy 
soon  forgot  (forgot  only  to  remember  for  ever)  that 
heartbroken  mother  weeping  beside  the  road.  He 
had  been  on  a  mail-coach  once  before  when  eight 
years  old,  and  had  gone  with  a  schoolmate,  whose 
father  was  the  driver,  as  far  as  Maidstone,  half  way  to 
the  metropolis.  But  that  was  four  years  ago — a  cen- 
tury to  a  boy  ;  and  now  London  was  the  destination  ! 
How  fast  the  horses  went  !  How  their  hoofs  rang 
out  on  the  hard  road  !  How  proud  John  felt,  perched 
up  there  on  the  top  of  the  lumbering  vehicle,  as  the 
women  ran  to  the  windows  to  look,  until  their  eyes 
were  blinded  by  the  A  ast.  They  made  ten  miles  an 
hour.  The  horses  were  changed  every  seven  miles. 
This  was  fast  traveling  in  the  year  of  grace  1829 — 
remember  that,  reader,  spoiled  by  the  experience  of 
fifty  miles  an  hour  ;  which,  by-the-by,  will,  in  its  turn, 
be  antiquated  as  the  stage-coach  jog  when  the  electric 
railroads  are  perfected.  At  each  relay  there  was  a 
tavern  where  driver  and  guard  took  an  "  'alf-an'-'alf  " 
— and  others,  also,  both  male  and  female.  Then  the 
bugle  blew,  and  the  coach  was  off  again. 

London  was  reached  safely  the  next  day.  With  all 
a  rustic's  curiosity,  John  gazed  around  him  in  open- 
mouthed  wonder.  What  crowds,  what  endless  lines 
of  houses,  what  smart  shops!  Stop,  here  is  a  candy- 
shop.  Where  are  those  pennies?  They  were  not 
plenty  in  his  pocket  in  those  days.  All  the  free  sights 


36  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

he  took  in  during  the  tarry  of  four  or  five  days  in 
town.  For  the  rest  he  was  like  the  Peri  in  "  Lalla 
Rookh,"  at  the  gate  of  Paradise — outside  ! 

On  the  loth  of  June  they  sailed  in  the  good  ship 
Helen.  Off  Sandgate  the  ship  was  becalmed — a  joyful 
occurrence  for  the  boy,  already  homesick,  for  his  father 
came  out  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  in  the  evening  his 
mother  and  sister,  spending  more  than  they  could 
afford  in  boat  hire.  These  two  had  been  absent  from 
home  in  the  afternoon  and  did  not  know  of  the  Helen's 
presence  in  the  offing  until  night  fell.  There  was 
another  sad  leave-taking.  As  his  loved  ones  dropped 
down  the  ship's  side  and  floated  away  in  the  darkness 
John's  heart  sank.  With  a  lump  in  his  throat  and 
tears  in  his  eyes,  he  "  turned  in  "  and  cried  himself  to 
sleep.  The  poor  mother,  we  may  be  sure,  did  not 
sleep  at  all.  During  the  night  a  breeze  sprang  up, 
and  in  the  morning  Sandgate  was  miles  and  miles 
astern. 

The  strange  experiences  of  the  voyage  filled  the 
time  and  held  the  attention  of  the  young  emigrant, 
who  proved  to  be  an  excellent  sailor,  and  who,  with 
the  happy  facility  of  boyhood,  found  in  change  and 
novelty  an  antidote  for  sorrow.  The  scrubbing  of 
the  deck,  the  shifting  of  the  sails,  the  "  yo  hoy  "  of 
the  seamen,  the  phosphorescent  trail  of  the  vessel,  the 
flapping  wings  of  the  sea-gulls  flying  about  the  rig- 
ging and  around  the  hull,  the  appearance  of  an 
occasional  porpoise  tumbling  and  rolling  in  the  waves 
— were  an  endless  source  of  amusement  to  this  quick 
and  sharp  observer. 

He  left  many  friends  behind  him  in  Sandgate.  He 
soon  made  many  new  ones  on  shipboard,  and  became 


THE    DEPARTURE    FROM    HOME.  37 

a  general  favorite.  One  of  these  sadly  reduced  his 
small  capital.  "  I  had,"  he  tells  us,  "  like  other  cap- 
italists, negotiated  a  loan  with  the  black  cook,  to 
whom  I  advanced  an  English  crown  ;  the  principal 
and  interest  remain  unpaid  ;  not  an  uncommon 
occurrence,  I  have  been  told  since,  in  regard  to  foreign 
loans." 

In  the  gray  dawn  of  August  3d  land  was  sighted  ; 
and  soon  everybody  was  on  deck — all  but  poor  John, 
who  was  kept  busy  below  blacking  the  shoes  of  his 
master's  family  preparatory  to  landing,  much  to  his 
disappointment,  while  the  delighted  comments  of  the 
company  on  deck,  as  the  Helen  sailed  up  the  lovely 
bay,  sounded  in  his  ear.  Thus  he  learned  that  he 
was  no  longer  a  petted  boy  at  home,  and  that  life 
meant  disappointment. 

The  people  to  whom  he  had  been  intrusted  went 
ashore  that  afternoon.  He  remained  on  board  the 
ship  until  the  next  day,  when  he,  too,  waved  a  good- 
bye to  the  friendly  seamen  and  that  insinuating  cook, 
and  set  foot  for  the  first  time  upon  the  soil  of 
America. 


II. 

THE  FARMER'S  BOY. 

GOUGH'S  "master,"  to  use  the  English  term,  re- 
mained in  New  York  City  two  months,  which  were 
devoted  by  him  to  "  prospecting,"  and  by  the  lad  to 
sightseeing,  as  opportunity  offered.  They  then  went 
to  Utica,  in  New  York  State,  where  the  Englishman 
bought  a  farm  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres, 
which  lay  a  few  miles  out  of  town,  and  whither  the 
family  removed. 

The  journey  up  the  Hudson  river  by  steamboat  to 
Albany,  the  diversified  scenery,  the  jaunt  on  the 
canal-boat  to  Utica,  and  the  wagon  ride  thence  to 
the  farm, — were  all  noted  by  the  young  traveler.  His 
new  home  was  on  the  frontier.  For  in  1829,  the 
western  march  of  civilization  had  scarcely  reached 
central  New  York.  There  were  settlements  beyond 
that  point,  but  they  were  few  and  far  between.  Hence 
life  on  the  Oneida  farm  was  like  life  in  the  Indian 
Territory  to-day.  Hard  work,  and  plenty  of  it,  was 
necessary  in  order  to  comb  out  the  country.  The 
boy  from  Sandgate  became  a  drudge,  "  gee-hawing  " 
the  oxen,  caring  for  the  stock,  hauling  wood,  driving 
the  plow,  running  on  errands,  and  enacting  the  rdle 
of  Jack-general-utility. 

He  did  not  like  the  American  weather.     One  day  it 


THE  FARMER'S  BOY.  39 

was  so  warm  that  he  worked  in  his  shirt  sleeves.  The 
next  there  was  a  heavy  fall  of  snow.  Such  sudden 
changes  dazed  him — as  they  have  many  others  before 
and  since.  Indeed,  our  climate  resembles  Pope's 
description  of  Villiers,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham, — 
"everything  by  starts,  and  nothing  long."  As  the 
winter  deepened,  Gough's  clothing  proved  insufficient. 
No  matter,  when  he  felt  cold  he  warmed  himself  by 
extra  exertions.  When  he  came  to  explore  his  chest 
he  found  fresh  evidences  of  his  mother's  love  and 
care.  She  had  pinned  on  almost  every  article  a  bit 
of  paper  containing  some  text  of  Scripture,  written  in 
her  own  dear  penmanship.  His  Bible,  too,  was 
marked  throughout,  the  second,  third,  fourth,  and 
fifth  chapters  of  Proverbs  being  especially  over  and 
under  scored. 

As  soon  as  the  rough  duties  of  his  new  life  would 
permit,  he  wrote  to  his  mother  a  long  and  remarkable 
letter,  full  of  Goughiana,  minutely  describing  the 
scenes  and  incidents  of  the  emigration,  and  proving 
unconsciously  to  himself  that  he  must  have  improved 
to  the  utmost  those  hours  in  school  which  abruptly 
ended  when  he  was  ten  years  old.  The  penmanship 
is  good,  the  spelling  immaculate,  and  the  grammar 
and  style  worthy  of  a  collegian.  The  gift  of  expres- 
sion was  his  by  nature — the  pen  spoke,  less  graphi- 
cally but  not  less  clearly  than  the  tongue.  We  put 
in  evidence  a  few  extracts  from  one  and  another  of 
his  letters: 

"The  farm  is  very  comfortable,  and  has  a  dwelling-house,  where 
we  live,  and  a  nice  log-house.  There  are  also  a  wood-house, 
a  wagon  and  sleigh  lodge,  three  hog-pens,  a  granary,  a  stable, 


40  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

two  barns,  two  cow-lodges — but  master  talks  of  having  eighteen 
or  twenty  cows  in  the  summer ;  two  horses,  three  fatting  hogs, 
seven  pigs,  fifty  she-p,  a  bull,  and  a  calf.  I  like  driving  our 
team  about.  A  team  in  this  country  is  two  horses.  Our 
wagon  is  not  so  heavy  as  the  English  one.  The  horses  are  put 
in  as  you  put  them  in  a  pair-horse  coach."  ' 

Later  on  he  writes  again: 

"  I  have  enjoyed  pretty  good  health  since  I  have  been  here. 
I  have  learned  a  great  many  things.  I  can  hold  the  plow,  and 
thrash,  and  plant  and  hoe  corn,  plant  potatoes,  make  cider,  and 
do.  a  great  many  things  that  I  knew  nothing  of  before.  I  was  at 
the  harrow  with  the  oxen,  when  I  heard  there  were  some  letters 
for  me,  and  soon  after  Elizabeth  brought  a  packet  to  me  in  the 
field.  But  I  could  not  work  any  more  all  day  for  joy.  I  like 
the  'Yankees  pretty  well.  They  are  open,  free,  and  generous. 
They  much  use  the  word  'guess.'  Thus,  if  they  meant  to  say, 
'  I  shall  go  to  chapel,'  they  would  say,  '  I  guess  I  shall  go  to 
chapel.'  Yesterday  I  went  to  camp-meeting,  which  is  held  once 
a  year  by  different  societies  of  Methodists.  It  is  generally  held 
in  some  of  the  woods.  When  we  arrived  at  the  entrance  to  the 
woods  where  this  meeting  was  held,  we  heard  a  confused  noise, 
but  the  first  thing  that  struck  our  attention  was  a  great  number 
of  tents  or  booths,  such  as  are  used  at  fairs.  The  next  was 
the  voice  of  prayer  in  every  direction.  About  fifteen  engaged 
in  prayer  to  God  at  the  same  time  at  different  prayer-rings, 
which  consisted  of  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  men  and  women 
met  together,  with  a  log  to  separate  the  males  and  the  females."3 

Mark  the  accurate  observation  and  minute  descrip- 
tion here.  Plainly  Gough  was  Gough  even  at  the 
age  of  twelve. 

We  subjoin  one  or  two  extracts  from  Mrs.  Gough 's 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.  58.     "  "Autobiography,"  p.  60. 


THE    FARMER  S    BOY.  41 

letters,  which   exhibit  at   once  her  intelligence,   her 
piety,  and  her  motherhood  : 

"  I  wish,  my  dear,  when  you  write  aga>n  you  would  let  me 
know  if  you  have  committed  to  memory  any  of  the  chapters  I 
mentioned  to  you  in  the  letter  I  put  among  your  clothes.  You 
will  find  them  of  great  use  to  you  ;  more  especially  if  you  are 
employed  in  the  fields,  where,  perhaps, you  will  be  much  alone. 
Then  you  will  find  it  a  pleasant  and  profitable  employment 
for  your  thoughts  to  be  able  to  repeat  to  yourself  portions  of 
the  Word  of  God.  I  speak  from  experience,  my  dear.  I  have 
often  .passed  pleasantly  many  an  hour  of  hard  work  by  repeat- 
ing to  myself  passages  of  Scripture  committed  to  memory,  and 
I  can  now  remember  those  best  that  I  learned  before  I  was 
your  age. 

"  We  long  to  know,  my  dear  boy,  how  you  got  through  the 
severe  winter.  It  was  very  severe  here ;  but  I  suppose  you 
will  find  the  summer  as  hot  as  you  have  felt  the  winter  cold." J 

Again  : 

"  I  do  assure  you  we  all  of  us  remember  you  with  unabated 
affection ;  and  the  9th  of  the  month  brings  forcibly  to  my  mind 
the  time  when  I  parted  from  you  ;  and  I  hope,  if  it  be  the 
Lord's  will,  that  we  shall  meet  again  in  this  world,  if  our  lives 
are  spared.  You  have  been  gone  now  nearly  two  years,  and 
the  time  will  wear  away. 

"  Your  father  was  pleased  that  you  had  taken  time  to  write 
your  last  letter  so  well.  He  wishes  you  to  practise  your  writ- 
ing whenever  you  have  opportunity  ;  and  also  your  ciphering, 
as  it  may  be  of  great  use  to  you  in  your  future  life. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  boy,  you  are  earnestly  seeking  after  the 
one  thing  needful.  You  know  the  Lord  has  said,  '  they  that 
seek  shall  find.'  It  is,  my  dear  boy,  the  earnest  wish  of  both 
your  parents  that  you  may  in  early  life  be  devoted  to  the  Lord ; 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  55,  56. 


42  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

that  you  may  be  His  servant — serve  Him — and  so,  my  dear 
boy,  keep  close  to  your  Bible."  ' 

Here  a  loving  Christian  mother's  heart  throbs  in 
every  word.  Admonitions  like  these  sometimes  seem 
to  be  forgotten — they  never  are.  Waywardness  and 
sin  may  overlay  them  ;  but,  like  that  long-lost  por- 
trait of  Christ  by  the  old  Italian  painter,  done  on  the 
wall  and  covered  by  neglect  and  ignorance  with 
whitewash,  which  was  finally  discovered  and  restored, 
the  divine  features  drawn  by  a  mother's  hand  in  a 
child's  consciousness  will  eventually  reappear  in 
undimmed  beauty  and  with  force  unspent. 

At  the  end  of  his  second  year  on  the  farm,  John 
resolved,  if  possible,  to  leave  it.  He  had  two  reasons 
for  this.  First,  he  was  being  dwarfed  into  a  mere 
"hand."  There  was  neither  time  nor  opportunity 
for  schooling — not  even  for  Sunday-school  study  ; 
and  he  knew  and  respected  his  parents'  wishes  on  these 
points.  Churches  were  infrequent,  but  he  did  attend 
one  or  another  of  them  occasionally;  and,  indeed, 
in  a  revival,  had  united  with  the  -Methodists  upon 
probation.  Second,  some  one  had  told  him  that  in 
New  York  City  he  could  learn  a  trade  without  the  pay- 
ment of  a  premium — the  necessity  in  England  which 
had  driven  him  into  exile.  Filial  feeling  led  him  to 
write  home  for  permission  to  make  the  change. 
Postage  in  those  days  was  high,  and  he  sold  his  pen- 
knife to  buy  the  stamp.  The  consent  came.  Gough 
laid  down  the  shovel  and  the  hoe,  picked  the  hayseed 
out  of  his  hair,  and  started  for  Gotham. 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.   56. 


III. 

THE   YOUNG    BOOKBINDER. 

THE  English  lad  is  now  out  of  tutelage,  and 
"  Lord  of  himself — that  heritage  of  woe  !  " 

His  parents  are  three  thousand  miles  away.  His 
recent  guardians  have  been  left  behind  up  in  Oneida 
County.  He  has  just  landed  from  the  steamboat,  and 
stands  at  the  corner  of  Cortlandt  street,  in  New  York 
City  with  a  baby  trunk  (plenty  large  enough  to  hold 
all  his  possessions)  at  his  feet,  fifty  cents  in  his  pocket, 
and  fourteen  years  on  his  head. 

"  Carry  your  trunk,  sir  ?  "  said  a  voice. 

He  started,  for  he  had  been  standing  panic-stricken 
in  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  human  stream. 

"  Carry  my  trunk,"  he  repeated;  and  then  asked 
himself — "  where  ?"  He  realized  now  the  full  mean- 
ing of  solitude  in  the  midst  of  multitudes — the  drear- 
iest loneliness  of  all. 

Well,  it  would  not  do  to  be  standing  here  in  a  brown 
study.  Like  "  Poor  Joe  "  in  Dickens's  story,  he  must 
be  "  movin*  on."  Some  one  directed  him  to  a  cheap 
hotel.  There  he  lodged.  Next,  he  was  directed  to 
seek  work  at  the  Methodist  Book  Concern,  then  in 
Crosby  Street.  He  did  so,  and  was  engaged  as  errand- 


44  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

boy  in  the  bookbindery,  with  the  promise  of  being 
taught  the  business.  What  were  the  wages  ?  They 
were  $2.25  a  week.  How  much  did  he  pay  for  board  ? 
He  paid  $2  a  week.  The  magnificent  sum  of  25  cents 
was  left  for  clothing  and  incidental  expenses. 

He  first  boarded  in  William  Street  (long  since 
wholly  given  up  to  business),  and  found  that  the  land- 
lady had  placed  him  in  the  same  room  and  bed  with 
a  poor  Irishman  who  shook  all  night  with  the  fever 
and  ague.  The  next  day  Gough  asked  fora  separate 
bed.  That  night  he  slept  on  a  "  cat-tail  "  bed  up 
under  the  rafters  in  the  same  room  with  the  sick  man, 
whose  groans  kept  him  awake,  and  who  presently  gave 
a  gasp,  a  moan — and  died.  Poor  Gough  was  fright- 
ened out  of  his  five  senses.  He  sat  there  with  eyes  as 
staring  and  mouth  as  much  a-gape  as  the  dead  man's, 
until  morning  dawned,  when  by  a  mighty  effort  he 
overcame  his  catalepsy,  rushed  from  the  stifling  den, 
and  aroused  the  landlady.  She  was  as  composed  as 
he  was  agitated — the  man's  board  was  paid!  "  This," 
remarked  Mr.  Gough,  "  was  my  first  experience  in  a 
cheap  boarding-house  in  New  York,  but  not  the  last 
by  any  means.  For  lack  of  comfort,  for  want  of  all 
that  makes  life  enjoyable,  a  cheap  boarding-house 
stands  preeminent."  Here,  beyond  dispute,  is  the 
secret  of  much  of  the  dissipation  prevalent  among 
men  in  great  cities.  The  saloon  isa-glitter  with  light, 
offers  companionship,  in  attractive  contrast  with  the 
dingy,  six-by-nine  lodging-house;  and  usually  stands 
between  the  brothel  and  the  theater,  opening  impar- 
tially into  both. 

For  a  time,  however,  Gough  escaped  these  pitfalls. 
As  he  worked  that  day  he  began  to  cry — the  scene  of 


THE    YOUNG    BOOKBINDER.  45 

the  night  before,  his  lack  of  sleep,  and  a  sense  of  his 
forlorn  situation  flooded  his  heart  with  woe.  A  young 
woman  near  by  saw  and  pitied  him,  learned  his  story, 
and  said: 

"  Poor,  distressed  child,  you  shall  go  home  with 
me."  He  did  so.  Her  mother  received  him  most 
kindly;  he  had  a  mother  and  a  sister  once  more. 
Unhappily,  he  did  not  remain  long  with  these  good 
Samaritans.  He  went  from  them  to  board  with  Mr. 
Anson  Willis,  his  class-leader  in  the  church  which  he 
attended.  The  future  looked  bright.  His  new 
friends  were  interested  in  him,  and,  indeed,  proposed 
to  educate  him  for  the  ministry.  He  wrote  to  inform 
his  parents  of  these  prospects,  and  received  their  glad 
sanction.  For  some  reason,  the  educational  project 
fell  through,  Gough  left  the  church,  quitted  the  Book 
Concern,  and  changed  his  boarding-place — a  social 
revolution.  This  passage  in  his  life  he  treats  in  his 
"Autobiography"  with  reticence,  and  obscures  it  by 
a  reference  to  "  circumstances."  In  so  far  as  his 
immediate  future  was  concerned  these  "  circum- 
stances "  were  most  unfortunate;  although  the 

"...     divinity  that  shapes  our  ends 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will  " 

meant  from  the  evil  to  educe  a  compensating  good. 

With  the  improvement  in  his  condition,  the  tugging 
at  his  heart  towards  home  increased.  As  he  could 
not  go  there,  why  not  bring  home  here?  He  wrote 
urging  his  parents  to  leave  Sandgate  for  New  York. 
The  father,  unwilling  to  lose  his  pension,  remained  in 
England  in  order  to  arrange  for  a  commutation,  hoping 


46  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

to   follow    later,    and    meantime    sent    his    wife   and 
daughter  on  ahead  in  response  to  this  appeal. 

John  was  now  sixteen,  had  learned  his  trade,  was 
earning  $3  a  week,  and  felt  quite  a  man.  When  his 
mother  and  sister  arrived,  he  met  them,  received  their 
compliments  upon  his  appearance,  responded  to  their 
affectionate  caresses,  and,  the  three  went  off  to  set  up 
that  home  of  which  John  had  been  dreaming.  It  was 
lowly — but  it  was  theirs  !  The  meals  were  frugal — 
but  they  were  prepared  by  mother!  They  all  thought 
the  three  rooms  in  which  they  kept  house  quite  palatial, 
the  three  cups  and  saucers  a  grand  show,  and  the 
shabby  furniture  good  enough  for  anybody. 

"Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home." 


IV. 


THE    PAUPER    FUNERAL. 

MRS.  GOUGH  and  her  daughter  had  reached  New 
York  in  August,  1833.  The  weeks  and  months  which 
followed  were  like  so  many  pages  out  of  a  fairy-story, 
when,  in  November  of  the  same  year,  the  dream  burst, 
and  fairyland  was  exchanged  for  prosaic  privation. 
Hard  times  came  on  ;  snap,  snap,  went  the  cords  of 
business.  Firm  after  firm  failed.  John  lost  his  place. 
His  sister,  who  had  secured  work  as  a  straw-bonnet 
maker,  lost  hers.  The  breadwinners  were  both  idle. 
The  Goughs  retrenched  by  giving  up  two  of  their 
rooms,  and  thus  reduced  their  rent  from  $1.50  to  50 
cents  a  week.  But,  where  was  this  to  come  from? 
And  how  about  food,  and  fire,  and  clothing? 

The  battle  for  bread  which  they  had  found  desper- 
ate enough  in  England,  proved  to  be  even  more  des- 
perate in  America.  The  winter  seemed  interminable. 
One  by  one  the  pieces  of  furniture  were  disposed  of — 
eaten  up.  One  by  one  their  articles  of  wearing 
apparel  were  carried  to  the  pawnshop.  John  roamed 
the  streets  in  search  of  something,  anything  to  do; 
sometimes  succeeding,  more  often  failing  to  get  even 
a  light  job.  Mrs.  Gough  and  her  two  children  went 
hungry  to  bed,  rose  hungry  in  the  morning,  remained 
hungry  through  the  day,  as  an  habitual  experience. 


48  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

The  agony  of  it  who  can  tell,  save  those  who  know! 
These  were  moments  when  meek-eyed  patience  folded 
her  hands  in  despair. 

Self-respect  kept  the  Goughs  through  that  dread- 
ful winter  from  applying  to  the  poor-fund  of  the  city 
for  relief.  The  worthy  poor  have  to  be  sought — they 
seldom  seek.  There  was  then  no  organized  charity; 
charity  was  individual  and  sporadic.  Moreover,  these 
people  were  unsophisticated,  strangers  in  a  strange 
land,  human  chips  on  the  Niagara  rapids  of  a  great 
city,  and  unskilled  in  the  wretched  art  of  self-asser- 
tion. Had  they  been  less  worthy  and  more  brazen, 
they  had  fared  better  in  a  world  which  often  gives 
from  a  motive  no  higher  than  to  "get  rid"  of  a 
beggar. 

As  the  wintry  days  brightened  into  spring  and  then 
warmed  into  summer,  these  privations  continued. 
The  necessaries  of  life  were  precariously  gotten  and 
enjoyed.  The  boy  and  girl  bore  it  better  than  might 
have  been  expected.  They  had  youth  on  their  side 
and  health.  Nor  were  they  haunted  by  memory,  nor 
racked  by  anticipation.  Mrs.  Gough  grew  thinner 
and  thinner.  She  became  so  weak  that  she  could 
hardly  drag  herself  about  the  garret.  But  for  the 
children's  sake  she  forced  a  semblance  of  cheerfulness 
to  her  face.  The  daily  portion  of  Scripture  was 
unfailingly  read.  A  blessing  was  asked  on  every 
starvling  meal.  Like  Milton,  when  poor  and  broken 
and  blind,  she  "  bated  no  jot  of  heart  or  hope,"  but 
submitted  with  the  unmurmuring  resignation  of  a 
Christian. 

It  was  the  8th  of  July,  1834.  The  day  was  hot. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  John  went  off  to  bathe  in  the 


THE    PAUPER    FUNERAL.  49 

East  River.  He  was  in  unusually  good  spirits,  and 
sported  in  the  water  like  a  fish,  while  his  companions 
laughed  merrily  at  his  antics  At  eight  o'clock  he 
returned  home,  reinvigorated  by  his  bath,  and  leaped 
up  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  whistling.  His 
sister  met  him  at  the  door  of  their  room,  and  exploded 
in  his  ear  the  bombshell  announcement: 

"  John,  mother's  dead!  " 

At  first  he  was  stunned — then  he  became  hysterical. 
As  soon  as  he  could  command  himself  he  went  in. 
There  she  lay — dear,  dear  mother — her  eyes  closed, 
a  handkerchief  around  her  head  and  chin, — so  cold,  so 
still,  yet  so  sweet  and  beautiful  to  look  at — not  like  the 
staring-eyed  and  open-mouthed  dead  Irishman  in  that 
other  garret,  three  years  before!  The  boy's  genius  for 
observation  enabled  him  to  grasp  these  details  at  a 
glance.  Then  a  tempest  of  sorrow  beat  within  his 
heart.  Meantime,  he  sat  there  beside  the  unre- 
sponsive form,  as  calm  himself,  physically,  as  the 
dead.  He  took  the  passive  hand  in  his  palm,  and 
held  it  until  it  seemed,  as  in  life,  to  give  him  pressure 
for  pressure.  Thus  he  sat  all  night,  thinking,  think- 
ing, devoid  of  fear  and  frozen  with  grief.  He  recalled 
his  mother's  love  and  care — her  life  of  hardship — her 
meek  and  holy  fortitude,  and  felt  almost  glad  to 
know  that  she  was  now  in  heaven,  where  such  as  she 
belonged. 

At  break  of  day,  a  wild  mood  seized  him.  He  rushed 
from  the  house.  "  Mother  is  not  dead,"  he  said  to 
himself;  "  she  shall  not  die!  "  Then  the  reality  of  it 
shook  him  like  an  aspen  leaf.  He  wandered  down  to 
the  river.  There  he  sat  thinking, — -ever  thinking, 
taking  no  note  of  time.  By-and-by  he  went  home. 
4 


50  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

They  told  him  his  sister  had  been  cared  for  by  neigh- 
bors on  the  floor  below;  told  him,  too,  how  his 
mother  had  been  found  by  some  one  who  passed  the 
open  door  of  their  room,  stretched  lifeless  upon  the 
floor,  where  she  had  fallen,  struck  down  by  apoplexy 
while  in  the  act  of  preparing  his  supper,  which  was 
found  burned  to  a  crisp  in  the  saucepan  on  the  stove 
— her  last  thought  and  effort  expended  for  him! 

Entering  the  room  once  more,  John  learned  further 
that  a  coroner's  inquest  had  been  held,  and  that 
orders  had  been  left  to  bury  the  body  before  the 
next  day  noon.  But  how  ?  Where  ?  He  plunged 
into  the  streets  again.  On,  on  he  went,  anywhere, 
nowhere,  without  a  purpose  save  to  keep  in  motion. 

Involuntarily  he  drifted  back  to  the  house,  and  dis- 
covered that  the  city  had  sent  a  cart,  a  pine  box,  and 
two  men,  and  that  the  precious  dust  had  just  started 
for  the  Potter's  Field.  Hastening  with  his  sister  after 
the  vehicle,  which  was  soon  overtaken,  the  two 
"  mitherless  bairns  "  followed  on  to  the  grave.  This 
dear  saint  had  been  tumbled  into  the  pine  box,  with 
her  shoes  on  her  feet,  without  a  prayer,  without  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures  she  loved,  and  was  now 
dumped  in  a  shallow  trench,  which  was  hastily  refilled 
— all  was  over.  Such  was  the  pauper  funeral  of  poor 
Jane  Gough! 

This  experience  made  a  practical  atheist  of  Gough 
or  many  years,  and  paved  the  way  for  his  moral 
downfall.  "  If  there  were  a  God  (so  he  reasoned), 
would  He  neglect  His  children  ?  Did  my  mother 
ever  desert  me  ?  Was  not  she  a  saint  ?  See  where 
she  lies  now — in  the  Potter's  Field!"  Having  thus 
stabbed  Providence  with  interrogation  points,  and 


THE    PAUPER    FUNERAL.  51 

put  over  him  an  exclamation  mark  tor  a  tombstone, 
he  proceeds  to  rail  at  the  Church  and  at  ministers. 
"  Mother  was  a  consistent  Church  member,  yet  she 
died  unsuccored,  and  was  carried  to  a  pauper's  grave 
without  a  prayer  !  " 

We  do  not  quote  his  words.  But  these  bitter  feel- 
ings were  locked-up  in  his  heart  as  he  turned  over 
these  mysteries  which  have  perplexed  profounder 
mindi>  that  his,  and  which  have  been  discussed  end- 
lessly since  they  were  mooted  in  the  days  of  Job 
under  the  tents  of  the  Idumean  Emirs.  Happily, 
deeper  views  of  the  creation,  a  wider  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  a  juster  conception  of  Providence,  and 
a  better  understanding  of  death — of  the  release  and 
reward  it  brings  to  the  righteous — eventually  brought 
him  back  to  his  mother's  Bible  and  his  mother's 
God. 

As  it  regards  Gough  himself,  this  pathetic  passage 
in  his  life  by-and-by  softened  his  heart,  made  him 
infinitely  pitiful,  and  gave  him  for  the  poor  and 
miserable  a  sympathy  which  enabled  him  to  speak 
for  them  and  to  them  with  redemptive  power,  and 
with  the  persuasiveness  of  personal  fellowship. 

Moreover,  his  early  poverty  allied  him  with  some 
of  the  greatest  of  men.  What  did  Dante  owe  to 
Florence  but  exile,  confiscation,  and  persecution  ? 
Lord  Bacon  is  said  to  have  been  reduced  to  beg  a 
mug  of  beer  in  his  old  age — and  to  beg  in  vain. 
Otway  was  choked  to  death  by  a  morsel  of  bread 
swallowed  too  ravenously  after  a  long  fast.  Johnson, 
after  the  publication  of  his  dictionary,  was  released 
by  his  publishers  from  the  debtor's  prison.  Gold- 
smith, more  than  once,  took  refuge  from  actual 


52  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

starvation  among  the  beggars  of  London.  Nay,  the 
Divine  Nazarene  Himself  was  so  poor  that  He  "  had 
not  where  to  lay  His  head." 

This   boy   of  sixteen  was   thus  far  in  good  com- 
pany. 


PART   III. 

The  Inferno 


"  O  thou  invisible  spirit  of  wine,  if  thou 
hast  no  other  name  to  be  known  by, 
let  us  call  thee  —  devil  !" 
—  SHAKESPEARE,  Othello,  Act  II.  Sc.  3. 


I. 


ADRIFT. 

UPON  returning  from  the  funeral  of  their  mother 
to  the  garret,  where  she  died,  and  which  had 
been  their  home,  John  and  his  sister  seated  them- 
selves in  utter  desolation.  They  would  not,  could 
not  remain  where  the  associations  were  so  sad. 
The  few  articles  which  had  stood  by  them  in  their 
poverty  until  now,  were  now  numbered  among  the 
assets  of  the  pawnbroker,  and  with  the  pitiful  pro- 
ceeds the  children  changed  their  abode  and  paid  for 
new  lodgings  a  month  in  advance — for  the  credit  of 
homeless  orphans  is  seldom  good  !  Then  John, 
weakened  by  sleeplessness  and  long  abstinence  (he 
had  eaten  nothing  since  his  mother's  death),  was 
taken  seriously  ill,  and  required  medical  attendance, 
which  the  city  furnished.  When  convalescent,  he 
went  to  the  Oneida  County  farm  to  visit  the  people 
with  whom  he  had  emigrated  ;  his  sister  going  to 
board  near  a  place  in  town  where  she  had  at  last 
secured  work.  After  an  outing  of  several  months,  he 
returned  to  New  York  and  went  into  the  bookbindery 
of  John  Gladding.  Two  years  and  more  ticked 
themselves  away,  month  by  month,  week  by  week, 
day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  minute  by  minute,  second 
by  second,  into  eternity.  How  did  the  young  book- 


56  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

binder  spend  the  time?  Recklessly  !  He  joined  one 
of  those  volunteer  fire-engine  companies  which  were 
a  feature  of  New  York  fifty  years  ago — trap-doors  of 
perdition,  too.  This  was  a  first  downward  step.  He 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  fast  set.  This  was  a 
second  step  downward.  He  soon  began  to  frequent 
questionable  resorts.  This  was  a  third  step  in  his 
moral  descent.  Low  he  went,  and  ever  lower,  slowly, 
surely;  illustrating  in  real  life  the  scenes  which 
Hogarth  has  immortalized  in  his  cartoons  of  "The 
Rake's  Progress." 

Talent  is  to  a  man  what  beauty  is  to  a  woman — 
ofttimes  a  fatal  gift.  Gough  sang  finely,  especially 
in  the  comic  vein.  He  was  a  natural  actor.  Story- 
telling was  his  forte.  Add  to  all,  a  social  disposition; 
and  'tis  easy  to  understand  why  the  young  fellow 
should  have  been  the  center  and  charm  of  those  loose 
circles. 

In  such  companionship  drinking  was  a  matter  of 
co urser^Attd— excessive  drinljing.  Gough's  tempera- 
ment was  intense.  Whatever  he  did  was  done  to  the 
full  'eXteot^^wJi^ther  it  was  work  or  play,  folly  or 
repentance.  He  was  also  excessively  nervous;  and  a 
single  social  glass  would  set  his  brain  aglow  and 
inspire  his  genius.  This  his  friends  knew.  Hence 
they  would  give  him  a  "starter,"  and  off  he  dashed 
like  a  racer  at  the  word  "  go  !  " 

Story  ever  old  and  ever  new!  Wretched  delusion, 
to  imagine  that  happiness  is  to  be  enjoyed  by  indulg- 
ing instead  of  in  controlling  appetite! 

Nevertheless,  Gough  is  more  deserving  of  pity  than 
of  blame.  Think  of  his  youth — of  his  exposure — of 
his  sordid  lodgings — of  his  isolation — of  his  peculiar 


ADRIFT.  57 

constitution.  Had  his  mother  lived  she  would  have 
supplied  him  with  what  he  lacked,  a  home,  the  over- 
sight and  restraint  of  parental  affection  and  religious 
guidance.  In  losing  her  when  and  as  he  did,  he  lost 
God,  the  Bible,  the  Church,  every  wholesome  influ- 
ence. 

One  morning  in  the  late  winter  of  1837,  while  at 
breakfast  in  a  Grand  street  boarding-house,  he  was 
told  that  there  was  a  fire  down  the  street.  He  had 
been  out  late  the  night  before,  and  was  surly,  as 
young  men  are  with  nerves  on  edge  after  a  carousal. 

"  Let  it  burn,  it  wont  hurt  me." 

It  did,  though,  for  it  was  the  bookbindery  of  Mr. 
Gladding  that  was  on  fire.  He  was  out  of  work 
again.  Not  long,  this  time,  but  his  "  boss  "  went  to 
Bristol,  Rhode  Island,  and  as  he  wanted  John  to  go 
with  him,  the  young  man  was  burned  out  of  New  York 
and  into  New  England. 


II. 


ON   THE   STAGE. 

IN  Bristol,  Gough  changed  the  scene  but  not  him- 
self. Bad  always  tends  to  worse.  His  drinking  habits 
grew  stronger,  and  his  companionships  more  dubious. 
Within  a  twelvemonth  Mr.  Gladding  failed.  John 
went  to  Providence.  Being  an  excellent  workman, 
he  easily  found  employment.  The  trouble  was  not 
to  get  it  but  to  keep  it.  His  new  employer  liked  him. 
All  that  he  needed  was  steadiness.  Before  he  became 
familiar  with  his  new  surroundings,  a  theatrical  com- 
pany billed  the  town.  Gough  sought  their  acquaint- 
ance. They  praised  his  singing,  admired  his  acting, 
and  laughed  at  his  stories. 

"  Say,  young  man,  why  don't  you  go  on  the  stage?'' 
said  one  of  these  Thesbians. 

This  question  pleased  his  vanity.  An  actor — why 
not? 

His  mother  had  taught  him  to  look  with  horror 
upon  the  theater.  For  years  he  never  passed  one 
without  a  shudder.  Now  he  had  become  a  confirmed 
play-goer;  another  proof  that 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen; 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 


ON   THE    STAGE.  59 

The  theater  to-day  is  prurient  enough.  His- 
trionic geniuses,  like  Edwin  Booth  and  Charlotte 
Cushman,  have  striven  in  vain  to  purify  it.  From  the 
same  stage  the  serious  face  of  Hamlet  and  the  half- 
nude  form  of  the  shameless  danseuse  have  been 
exhibited.  Hyperion  here,  a  satyr  there.  Sensuality 
claims  and  dominates  the  boards.  The  plays  that 
draw  the  best  and  pay  the  most  are  of  the  type  of  the 
"  Black  Crook" — moral  monstrosities.  It  sometimes 
seems  as  though  the  days  of  Congreve  and  Wycherly 
had  come  again.  The  license  of  Charles  the  Second's 
time,  when  the  loosest  verses  were  put  into  the 
mouths  of  women;  when  hard-hearted  and  swagger- 
ing licentiousness  prevailed;  when  every  wife  was 
represented  as  a  bawd  and  every  husband  as  a  dupe; 
when  Shakespeare's  Viola  was  changed  into  a  pro- 
curess, and  Moliere's  misanthrope  became  a  ravisher; 
when  vice  was  the  fashion  and  virtue  a  joke, — these 
gross  indecencies  of  the  restoration  disfigure  the  last 
decade  of  the  nineteenth  century.  We  badly  need 
another  Jeremy  Collier. 

Not  long  before  his  death,  the  late  Edwin  Booth 
wrote  to  a  stage-struck  young  friend  well-placed  in 
life  as  follows: 

"  I  have  known  many  who,  like  you,  gave  up  home,  friends, 
and  a  respectable  position  for  the  glitter  of  the  actor's  calling, 
and  who  now  are  fixed  for  life  in  subordinate  positions  unworthy 
their  breeding,  education,  and  natural  refinement.  I  beg  you, 
as  your  friend  and  sincere  well-wisher,  to  abandon  the  mistaken 
resolve,  and  enjoy  the  drama  as  a  spectator,  which  pleasure  as 
an  actor  you  will  never  know,  and  retain  the  family,  friends,  and 
happy  home  that  now  are  yours.  Had  nature  fitted  me  for  any 
other  calling,  I  should  never  have  chosen  the  stage  ;  were  I 


60  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

able  to  employ  my  thoughts  and  labor  in  any  other  field,  I 
would  gladly  turn  my  back  on  the  theater  for  ever.  An  art 
whose  professors  and  followers  should  be  of  the  very  highest 
culture  is  the  mere  makeshift  of  every  speculator  and  boor 
that  can  hire  a  theater,  or  get  hold  of  some  sensational  rubbish 
to  gull  the  public.  I  am  not  very  much  in  love  with  my  calling 
as  it  now  is  (and,  I  fear,  will  ever  be);  therefore  you  see  how 
loath  I  am  to  encourage  any  to  adopt  it.  I  know  you  will  take 
my  advice,  as  it  is  meant,  in  sincere  kindness,  and  believe  that 
my  only  wish  is  to  spare  you  the  sorrow  that  must  follow  the 
course  you  would  pursue." 

When  young  Gough  became  an  actor  things  were 
even  worse.  The  theater  was  an  outlaw.  No  preten- 
sions were  made  to  decency.  When  the  plays  were 
not  frivolous,  they  were  dissolute.  Coarse  vice  dis- 
ported on  the  stage,  and  drunkenness  hiccoughed  in 
the  green-room.  A  worse  environment  for  a  young 
man  with  habits  already  bad  could  not  be  found. 

Gough  soon  showed  the  effects  of  his  new  way  of 
life.  He  drank  more,  swore  more,  gambled  more 
than  ever.  The  line  of  characters  he  portrayed  was 
the  lowest  of  the  low — profligate  buffoons.  A  certain 
success  attended  his  representations,  for  he  had  in 
unusual  measure  the  talent  required.  Nor  .was  he 
quite  a  novice.  Before  leaving  New  York  he  had 
sung  successfully  in  the  old  Chatham  street  theater, 
under  the  assumed  name  of  Gilbert — a  last  tribute  to 
his  past;  for  now,  quite  shameless,  he  acted  under  his 
own  name. 

The  players  in  Providence  soon  ended  their  season 
in  bankruptcy.  Gough  got  nothing  for  his  service. 
Out-at-the-elbow,  down-at-the-heel,  his  eyes  red,  his 
face  bloated,  he  was  thrown  penniless  upon  the 


ON   THE  STAGE.  6l 

streets.  From  Rhode  Island  he  wandered  to  Boston. 
Here  he  played  in  a  drama  entitled,  "  The  Temper- 
ance Hoax,"  concocted  to  lampoon  the  cause  after- 
wards so  dear  to  him,  in  which  the  coarsest  fun  was 
poked  at  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  and  Deacon  Moses 
Grant,  two  of  his  best  friends  in  the  near  future. 
Again  the  season  ended  in  financial  loss.  Again  he 
was  out  of  employment  and  unpaid. 

Years  afterwards,  when  the  now  bankrupt  young 
actor  was  mature  and  disillusionized,  he  thus  throws 
a  flash-light  back  upon  these  experiences: 

"  I  shall  never  forget  the  sensation  on  my  first  visit  to  the 
theater.  It  was  the  Old  Bowery.  The  play  was  '  The  Apos- 
tate'— Mr.  Booth,  the  elder,  as  Pescara ;  Mr.  Hamblin,  the 
manager,  as  Hemeya ;  and  Miss  Vincent  as  Flortnda,  The 
afterpiece  was  'The  Review;  or,  The  Wags  of  Windsor" — 
Mr.  Booth  as  John  Lump  ;  Mr.  Hamblin  as  Looney  Me  Twol- 
ter.  Between  the  tragedy  and  the  farce  I  cried  and  laughed. 
I  was  thrilled  by  the  tragedy,  and  convulsed  by  the  farce. 
It  was  a  new  world.  How  beautiful  were  the  women ! 
how  noble  were  the  men !  Even  Pescara,  as  his  eyes 
flashed  with  malignant  hate,  was  like  a  creature  above  the 
mere  human.  The  gorgeous  dresses,  the  music  and  lights 
dazzled  me.  I  went  home  to  my  lodgings  fascinated,  carried 
out  of  myself.  How  mean  and  poor  was  my  little  bed- 
room, and  what  a  dreary  monotony  of  life  mine  was,  plodding 
in  a  shop  to  learn  a  trade!  Trade,  profession,  occupation,  busi- 
ness— all  was  tame,  slow,  groveling,  compared  with  the  glori- 
ous, the  grand,  the  bewildering  pursuit  of  the  actor.  Again 
and  again  I  enjoyed  the  delicious  enchantment,  and  fully  de- 
termined that  I  must  be  an  actor — I  must  strut  my  hour  upon 
the  stage.  I  envied  the  poor  stick  who  came  on  to  remove 
the  tables  and  chairs — the  poor,  despised  supe;  even  the  door- 
keeper was  an  object  of  interest.  Yes,  I  was  smitten. 

With  what  awe  and  reverence  would  we  stage-struck  boys 


62  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

watch  some  celebrated  actor  in  the  streets.  It  was  an  event 
worth  recording.  '  I  saw  Forrest  to-day.'  '  I  saw  Booth  to- 
day.' I  have  even  followed  them  and  set  my  foot  on  the  same 
stones  they  had  trodden.  Remember  I  was  but  sixteen  years 
of  age.  These  boys  had  each  his  favorite  actress,  for  whom  he 
would  fight,  aye,  and  throw  down  the  gantlet  to  all  comers 
in  her  defense.  How  we  would  crowd  around  the  stage-door 
to  see  some  actor  or  actress  pass  in  or  out !  Madame  Celeste 
was  a  great  favorite ;  we  were  never  weary  of  singing  her 
praises  or  seeing  her  performance.  I  should  hesitate  to  say 
how  many  times  I  had  seen  her  in  '  The  French  Spy.' 

"  All  this  led  me  to  neglect  the  duty  that  lay  before  me.  I 
eagerly  devoured  any  plays  that  I  could  lay  hold  of — learned 
parts.  I  could  repeat  and  spout  yaffier  in  '  Venice  Preserved.' 
From  tragedy  to  comedy,  from  farce  to  melodrama  ;  I  even 
contemplated  writing  a  play.  I  have  carried  a  play-book  sur- 
reptitiously to  my  work-bench,  and  learned  the  whole  play 
while  at  my  work,  and  then  would  mouth  it  and  tear  it  in 
pieces  in  the  most  extravagant  theatrical  style."  ' 

In  speaking  of  the  engagement  in  Boston,  which 
ended  his  theatrical  career,  he  says: 

"  I  had  now  been  regularly  engaged  on  the  staff  of  artists  in 
a  regular  theater.  Surely,  I  was  at  the  summit  of  my  ambi- 
tion. Before  it  had  been  an  occasional  appearance  to  fill  up  a 
gap  at  a  temporary  place  of  entertainment.  Alas !  I  found 
the  gold  to  be  tinsel.  Here  I  acquired  a  thorough  distaste  for 
all  theatrical  representations,  and  all  the  genius  and  intellect 
displayed  by  the  most  famous  actor  has  not,  and  never  can, 
reconcile  me  to  the  sham,  the  tinsel  crowns,  the  pasteboard 
goblets,  the  tin  armor,  the  paltry  spangles,  cotton  for  velvet, 
all  make-believe,  the  combats,  and  the  sham  blood.  Even  the 
nightly  disguise  became  an  annoyance ;  the  painting  the  face, 
corking  the  eyebrows,  penciling  the  wrinkles,  the  doing  up  with 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  527,  528. 


ON   THE   STAGE.  63 

false  whiskers,  hair,  mustache,  the  French  chalk,  the  rouge, 
the  burnt  cork,  to  say  nothing  of  the  habiliments,  rendered  the 
whole  thing  at  the  last  odious  to  me ;  and  I  never  felt  meaner, 
or  had  less  self-respect,  than  when  I  was  bedizened  to  do  some 
character.  How  men  of  ability  and  common  sense  can  submit 
to  this  caricaturing  night  after  night,  passes  my  poor  compre- 
hension. 

"  In  the  theater  I  found  some  men  of  education  in  the  higher 
walks  of  the  profession ;  but,  oh  !  the  disenchantment !  The 
beautiful  women  were,  some  of  them,  coarse  and  profane;  the 
noble  gentlemen  often  mean,  tricky,  and  sponging.  In  fact,  the 
unreality  of  it,  the  terrible  temptation  to  the  lower  forms  of 
vice,  especially  to  those  of  the  nervous,  excitable  temperament, 
increased  by  the  falsehood  and  fiction  involved  in  their  pro- 
fession, in  seeming  to  be  what  they  never  were  or  could  be, 
studying  virtue  to  represent  it  on  the  stage,  while  their  lives 
were  wholly  vicious,  repelled  me.  Mark  me  well,  I  do  not  say 
this  of  all  actors.  I  only  speak  of  the  special  temptations  of 
this  special  profession." ! 

In  looking  back,  he  affirms  that  even  then  he  was 
glad  he  failed  in  that  vocation — that  the  way  was 
closed,  and  marked,  "  No  thoroughfare."  God  did 
not  mean  Gough  to  wear  the  mask  of  Momus  on  the 
mimic  stage.  He  was  to  act  a  more  real  part  in  a 
nobler  drama. 


1 "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  529,  530. 


III. 


THE    ADVENTURES   OF   A    DRUNKARD. 

ALTHOUGH  he  had  the  appearance  of  a  hard  drinker, 
Gough  had  been  able  to  persuade  himself  until  now 
that  he  was  not  a  drunkard.  Conscience  accused  him 
of  it;  but  he  played  the  special  pleader  in  the  court 
of  his  mind  and  cozened  the  jury  into  bringing  in  a 
verdict  of  acquittal.  After  his  failure  on  the  stage, 
he  went  back  to  his  trade.  He  was  soon  dismissed 
on  the  avowed  ground  that  he  was  a  drunkard! 

A  disagreeable  truth  is  resented.  Gough  was 
angry.  He  kept  sober  for  a  whole  week  in  order  to 
show  himself  that  he  did  not  deserve  the  opprobrious 
title.  The  next  week  he  was  drunk  from  Monday 
morning  until  Saturday  night  in  celebration  of  his 
sobriety!  Upon  recovering  from  this  debauch, 
poorer  and  shabbier  than  ever,  he  heard  that  a  book- 
binder was  wanted  in  Newburyport,  Mass.,  and  that 
$6  a  week  might  be  earned  there.  He  went  to  New- 
buryport, in  January,  1838,  got  the  job,  and  remained 
sober  for  an  unwonted  interval.  Then  trade  fell  off, 
and  he  shipped  on  a  fishing-smack  for  a  voyage  to 
Chaleur  Bay.  The  captain  carried  no  liquor;  so  that 
Gough  was  temperate  on  ship-board  by  compulsion. 
Every  time  the  vessel  touched  along  shore,  however, 
he  went  on  a  spree.  On  one  such  occasion  he  lay 


THE   ADVENTURES    OF   A    DRUNKARD.  65 

drunk  at  the  bottom  of  the  yawl  as  it  was  rowed  back 
in  the  darkness  to  the  vessel  at  anchor  a  mile  away. 
She  was  reached.  The  oarsmen  scrambled  aboard, 
not  missing  him.  The  yawl  was  then  hauled  on  deck 
by  the  prow.  The  first  jerk  threw  the  poor  drunkard 
against  the  stern.  The  blow  aroused  him.  He  cried 
out,  and  was  caught  just  as  he  was  about  to  be 
dumped  into  the  sea.  This  narrow  escape  he  treated 
as  a  good  joke.  The  next  time  he  went  ashore  he 
treated  his  rescuers,  and  got  drunk  again  in  their 
company. 

Off  Cape  Sable,  as  the  fishermen  were  homeward 
bound,  they  ran  into  a  terrific  storm.  The  rough  sea- 
faring men  did  not  expect  to  weather  it.  Crash  went 
the  masts.  Another  crash,  the  deck  was  broken  in. 
Gough,  made  callous  by  dissipation,  and  calm  in  the 
midst  of  storm,  occupied  himself  in  taking  mental 
kodak  pictures  of  the  scene — the  tossing  vessel,  the 
shrieking  wind,  the  upheaving  waves,  the  frightened 
sailors.  After  a  wild  day  or  two,  they  ran  into  Sher- 
burne  Bay,  Nova  Scotia,  for  repairs;  and  sailed  thence 
for  home,  which  they  reached  without  further  adven- 
ture. 

Gough  describes  one  incident  of  this  storm  in  a 
manner  so  characteristic  that  we  quote  it: 

"  We  had  a  man  on  board  so  notoriously  wicked  that  we 
called  him  the  Algerine.  His  habitual  profanity  was  frightful. 
Utterly  ignorant,  all  he  knew  of  prayer  or  Scripture,  was  the 
first  verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  and  the  first  clause  of 
the  Lord's  prayer.  During  fair  weather,  he  was  a  great  brag- 
gart and  bully ;  when  the  gale  so  increased  that  we  were  really 
in  danger,  he  began  to  show  signs  of  fear ;  and  soon  we  heard 
him  muttering — '  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and 

5 


66  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  earth — oh  ! — oh  ! — Our  Father  shart  in  heaven — oh  !  we're 
going  down — oh  !  d the  luck — In  the  beginning — oh  !  mur- 
der— d the  luck — Our  Father  shart  in  heaven.'  When  the 

jib  blew  away  he  was  ordered  by  the  captain  to  go  out  with 
another  sailor  on  the  bowsprit.  '  No,  I  wont — Our  Father  shart 

in  heaven — no — I  wont — d d  if  I  do,' — and  there  poor  Jake 

lay  prone  on  the  deck.  '  Get  up,  you  lubber ! '  roared  the 
captain.  '  Our  Father  shart  in  heaven '  —  continued  Jake. 
'  You  need  to  be  started  with  a  rope's  end,'  said  the  captain. 
'  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth' — 
'You  fool!  get  up!  you'll  be  washed  overboard,'  said  the  cap- 
tain. '  Oh  !  oh  ! — Our  Father  shart  in  heaven,'  said  Jake  as  he 
crawled  to  one  of  the  rings  by  the  hatchway,  and  clung  to  it 
with  both  hands.  Poor  Jake !  I  think  I  see  him  now,  as,  in 
spite  of  the  tremendous  sea  and  our  personal  danger,  we  could 
but  laugh.  Utterly  powerless  with  terror,  all  we  could  get  out 
of  him  was — 'In  the  beginning' — or,  'Our  Father  shart  in 

heaven  ' — with  an  occasional  'd the  luck,'  interspersed  with 

the  most  dismal  ohs  and  groans.  And  so  it  was  till  the  storm 
abated.  When  we  were  safe  in  Sherburne  harbor,  seated  at  a 
table  with  coffee  and  doughnuts,  one  of  the  men  said  :  '  Jake, 
what  was  that  about  your  Father?'  another:  'Jake,  tell  us 
what  was  it  in  the  beginning?'  and  the  chaffing  commenced 
and  continued,  till  he  was  almost  beside  himself  with  rage,  and 
so  threatened  us  that  we  thought  it  advisable  to  let  him  alone. 
But  the  slightest  allusion  to  Jake's  '  Father  '  or  '  the  beginning ' 
was  sufficient  to  put  him  in  a  fury  of  passion  ever  after- 
wards." J 

When  a  man  is  a  fool  in  one  way  he  may  be  safely 
relied  upon  to  prove  himself  a  fool  in  various  other 
ways.  At  this  time  Gough  married!  He  could  al- 
most support  himself;  probably  he  thought  it  would 
be  a  poor  woman  who  could  not  help  a  little.  The 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  88-89. 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    A    DRUNKARD.  67 

singular  part  of  it  is  that  any  woman  should  have 
taken  the  same  view.  "Why  are  you  women  such 
fools?"  asked  Napoleon  of  Madame  de  Stael.  "I  sup- 
pose, sire,"  replied  she,  "  that  God  made  us  to  match 
the  men."  Gough's  wife,  poor  thing,  paid  dearly  for 
her  folly.  Perhaps  she  married  him  to  reform  him. 
If  she  did,  she  soon  realized  her  error.  She  did  not 
lift  him  up;  instead,  he  dragged  her  down — not  into 
drunkenness;  that  last  disgrace  was  spared  both  of 
them, — but  into  poverty  and  wretchedness. 

"  Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 
The  saddest  are  these — it  might  have  been." 

This  marriage  "  might  have  been  "  happy.  But  in 
order  to  that  there  was  need  of  what  Gough  at  the 
time  lacked,  stability,  sobriety  ;  in  one  word,  char- 
acter. Instead  of  altering  his  habits,  he  drank  more, 
if  possible,  neglected  his  home  for  his  former  evil 
associates,  and  was  habitually  out  of  work.  His 
divinity  was  not  his  wife,  but  the  bottle. 

Soon  his  very  associates  grew  ashamed  of  him. 
They  cut  him  in  the  street.  The  men  who  had 
hounded  him  on  along  the  road  to  ruin,  now  that  he 
had  reached  that  destination,  turned  from  him  with  a 
curse.  He  became  cheap  in  the  estimation  of  the 
"  respectable  "  revelers,  who  wore  good  clothes  and 
held  any  social  position.  "  Here  comes  that  drunk- 
ard," they  would  say  ;  and  then  pass  him  without  a 
nod.  These  were  men  about  town  who  had  not  long 
before  laughed  loudest  at  his  drolleries  and  applaudec 
his  recitations. 

Drunkard  though  he  was,  he  was  cut  to  the  quick. 


68  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

For  it  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  even  the  lowest  of 
the  low  is  destitute  of  feeling  or  indifferent  to  social 
outlawry.  Gough  has  himself  said,  in  referring  to 
this  period  in  his  career  :  "  To  speak  of  a  drunkard's 
pride  seems  absurd  ;  and  yet  drink  does  not  destroy 
pride  and  the  desire  for  better  things.  The  sting  of 
his  misery  is  that  he  has  ambition,  but  no  expecta- 
tion ;  pride,  but  no  energy.  Therefore,  the  posses- 
sion of  these  very  qualities  is  an  addition  to  his  load 
of  agony.  Could  he  utterly  forget  his  manhood,  and 
wallow  with  the  beasts  that  perish,  he  would  be  com- 
paratively happy.  But  his  curse  is  that  he  thinks. 
He  is  a  man,  and  must  think.  He  cannot  always 
drown  thought  or  memory.  He  may,  and  does,  fly 
for  false  solace  to  the  drink,  and  so  stun  his  enemy 
in  the  evening  ;  but  it  will  rend  him  like  a  giant  in 
the  morning.  A  flower,  a  half-remembered  tune,  a 
child's  laughter,  will  sometimes  suffice  to  flood  the 
victim  with  recollections  that  either  madden  him  to 
excess,  or  send  him  crouching  to  his  miserable  room, 
to  sit  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  while  the  hot, 
thin  tears  trickle  over  his  swollen  fingers." ' 

A  self-respecting  employer  feels  pride  in  his  em- 
ployes. Who  wants  a  sot  in  his  workroom  ?  Gough 
could  not  get  work.  As  he  stood  drinking  at  one  of 
the  Newburyport  bars  he  confided  his  situation  to  the 
rumseller  who  had  served  him. 

"  Why  don't  you  start  a  bindery  of  your  own  ? "  he 
asked. 

Gough  laughed,  surveyed  his  rags,  and  said: 

"  If  I  can't  get  work,  how  can  I  get  credit  ? " 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  117,  sg. 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    A    DRUNKARD.  69 

"  Well,  Gough,  I'll  furnish  the  tools,  and  you  can 
pay  me  in  installments." 

The  offer  was  accepted.  The  tools  were  supplied. 
The  bindery  was  opened.  He  was  much  impressed 
by  this  act  of  kindness. 

"  People  say  liquor-dealers  have  no  heart.  See 
what  this  man  has  done — when  no  one  else  would 
lend  me  a  helping  hand!"  Thus  he  thought.  He 
actually  kept  sober  long  enough  to  repay  the  debt. 
Presently,  however,  his  opinion  was  modified  when 
he  learned  that  his  "  friend  "  had  secured  the  tools  on 
credit,  taken  the  money  for  them  from  him,  never 
settled  for  them,  and  left  him  to  be  dunned  for  double 
payment! 

How  can  a  man  who  will  not  keep  sober  enough  to 
work  for  others  successfully  manage  a  business  for 
himself  ?  Cough's  venture  ended,  as  it  was  sure  to 
do,  in  failure.  When  he  should  have  been  in  his 
bindery,  he  was  in  a  grog-shop.  Books  that  were 
promised  were  not  delivered.  Patronage  ceased. 
The  shop  was  closed. 

The  unhappy  man  was  now  constantly  under  the 
influence  of  liquor.  He  kept  it  in  the  house,  drank 
every  little  while,  until  his  brain  was  always  in  a 
dizzy  whirl,  and  his  hands  trembled  so  that  they  lost 
the  power  to  work  at  a  trade  requiring  delicacy  of 
manipulation,  as  bookbinding  did. 

In  desperate  straits,  he  joined  himself  to  a  strolling 
company  of  minstrels,  and  set  out  on  a  local  concert 
tour.  In  one  of  those  proverbs  which  concentrate  the 
wisdom  of  ages,  we  are  told  that  "  a  rolling  stone 
gathers  no  moss."  Gough's  musical  peregrinations 
brought  him  more  applause  than  money.  But,  like 


70  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  "  Wandering  Jew,"  he  was  in  motion — which  he 
craved. 

Rum  revolutionized  the  nature  of  this  young  man. 
He  was  naturally  religious — he  dethroned  the  Lord 
in  his  irreverent  thought,  and  seated  whiskey  "  as 
God  in  the  temple  of  God."  He  was  naturally  affec- 
tionate— he  withdrew  his  heart  from  his  wife  and 
gave  it  to  drink.  He  was  naturally  truthful — he  lied 
without  scruple  to  get  liquor.  He  was  naturally 
frank  and  open — he  became  a  sneak  under  the 
influence  of  the  bottle,  and  dodged  down  alleys  and 
skulked  under  the  shadows  when  searching  for  a 
dram.  The  fatal  vice  emphasized  every  weakness 
and  paralyzed  every  strength.  Generosity  became 
meanness.  And,  like  Milton's  Satan,  he  seemed  to 
say:  "  Evil,  be  thou  my  good  !  " 

All  this  to  tickle  a  little  spot  in  the  throat  not  an 
inch  wide.  "  Oh,  that  men  should  put  an  enemy 
in  their  mouths  to  steal  away  their  brains  !  " 


IV. 


DELIRIUM     TREMENS. 

SINCE  his  separation  from  his  sister  in  the  autumn 
of  1834,  soon  after  their  mother's  death,  Gough  had 
not  lived  with  her.  She  was  now  married,  and 
resided  in  Providence,  Rhode  Island.  One  day  he 
received  a  letter  from  her  in  which  she  told  him  she 
was  ill,  and  requested  him  to  send  his  wife  to  her  for 
awhile.  He  consented — a  welcome  respite  to  her,  no 
doubt. 

Having  seen  her  off,  he  returned  to  his  home.  Her 
absence  depressed  him.  A  house  without  a  wife  in  it 
is  like  a  body  from  which  the  soul  is  gone.  He  sat 
down  promising  himself  that  he  would  go  to  work  in 
earnest.  It  was  in  the  morning.  Soon  he  espied  a 
bottle  of  West  India  rum.  "  Ah,"  said  the  toper, 
"  here  is  consolation."  He  took  a  glass,  another,  then 
another.  He  lay  down  in  a  stupor.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon he  staggered  to  his  feet.  A  sense  of  loneliness 
drove  him  out  in  search  of  companionship.  He  found 
a  neighbor  with  kindred  tastes.  Together  they 
returned  to  Gough's  room,  and  made  a  night  of  it. 
In  "  the  wee  sma'  hours,"  the  visitor  hiccoughed  a 
good-night,  and  stumbled  away.  Gough  was  so 
intoxicated  that  in  groping  his  way  back  from  the 


72  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

door  he  fell  over  a  table,  broke  the  lamp,  and  lay  on 
the  floor  in  the  dark.  By  an  effort  he  rose,  found  the 
bed,  and,  without  undressing,  threw  himself  upon  it. 
But  not  to  sleep.  A  horrible  drowsiness  put  its  fin- 
gers on  his  eyelids  and  pressed  them  down.  A  hor- 
rible wakefulness  pried  them  open.  Every  sense  was 
preternaturally  acute.  His  mouth  seemed  to  be 
stuffed  full  of  dry  flame.  A  furnace  flamed  in  his 
stomach.  Dawn  looked  in  at  the  window.  Gough 
rose,  steadied  himself,  and  sallied  forth  to  replenish 
his  stock  of  rum.  With  a  fresh  supply  he  returned, 
and  for  three  days  he  lay  on  the  bed  nursing  the  bot- 
tle. During  all  that  time  he  ate  nothing,  nor  did  he 
sleep.  He  rose,  got  a  pipe,  and  went  to  bed  again 
with  it  lighted  between  his  lips.  He  dozed.  His 
face  became  hot.  He  half  awoke.  The  pillow  was 
on  fire!  He  dashed  it  to  the  floor  and  sank  into  a 
heavy  stupor.  From  this  state  he  was  aroused  by 
neighbors  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  smell  of 
fire.  The  straw  on  which  he  lay  was  smouldering 
and  in  a  few  moments  more  must  have  burst  into 
flame!  He  was  between  two  fires,  unconscious  of 
either. 

The  fright  sobered  him — just  enough  to  enable  him 
to  crawl  out  for  more  rum.  He  continued  to  drink, 
until  his  nervous  system  gave  way.  Alarmed  now, 
he  begged  for  a  physician,  who  appeared,  diagnozed 
the  case  as  one  of  alcoholism,  and  banished  all  stimu- 
lants. Then  came  the  drunkard's  remorseless  tor- 
turer,  delirium  tremens.  Gough  himself  describes  it: 

"For  three  days  I  endured  more  agony  than  pen  can  de- 
scribe, even  were  it  guided  by  the  mind  of  Dante.  Who  can 
tell  the  horrors  of  that  malady,  aggravated  as  it  is  by  the  con- 


DELIRIUM  TREMENS.  73 

sciousness  that  it  is  self-produced  ?  Hideous  faces  appeared 
on  the  walls,  on  the  ceiling,  on  the  floors;  foul  things  crept 
along  the  bed-clothes,  and  glaring  eyes  peered  into  mine.  I 
was  at  one  time  surrounded  by  millions  of  monstrous  spiders 
that  crawled  slowly  over  every  limb,  whilst  the  beaded  drops  of 
perspiration  started  to  my  brow,  and  my  limbs  shivered  till  the 
bed  rattled  again.  All  at  once,  whilst  gazing  at  a  frightful 
creation  of  my  distempered  mind,  I  seemed  struck  with  sudden 
blindness.  I  knew  a  candle  was  burning  in  the  room,  but  I 
could  not  see  it — it  was  so  pitchy  dark.  I  lost  the  sense  of 
feeling,  too,  for  I  endeavored  to  grasp  my  arm  in  one  hand — 
but  consciousness  was  gone.  I  put  my  hand  to  my  head,  my 
side,  but  felt  nothing,  although  knowing  my  frame  and  head  were 
there.  Then  the  scene  would  shift ;  I  was  falling,  falling,  falling, 
swift  as  an  arrow,  far  down  into  some  terrible  abyss.  So  like 
reality  was  it,  that  as  I  fell,  I  could  see  the  rocky  sides  of  a 
shaft  where  rocking,  jibing,  fiend-like  forms  were  perched;  and 
I  could  feel  the  air  rushing  past  me,  making  my  hair  stream 
out  by  the  force  of  the  unwelcome  blast.  Then  the  paroxysm 
ceased  for  a  few  moments,  and  I  would  sink  back  on  my  pallet, 
drenched  with  perspiration,  utterly  exhausted,  and  feeling  a 
a  dreadful  certainty  of  the  renewal  of  my  torments."  ' 

For  awhile  this  descent  into  the  inferno  startled 
Gough  into  abstinence.  He  was  young.  He  re- 
covered rapidly.  All  that  was  necessary  to  make  and 
keep  him  hale  and  hearty  was  a  temperate  life.  Alas, 
no  sooner  did  he  feel  like  himself  again  than  he  re- 
turned to  his  cups  like  a  dog  to  its  vomit.  His  wife 
came  home.  With  a  drunkard's  penchant  for  cele- 
brations, he  memorialized  the  event  by  getting  drunk. 
What  a  welcome  ! 

Now  began  another  series  of  wanderings.      Travel- 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  103,  104. 


74  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

ing  with  a  Diorartia  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  ("  the 
British  were  here  ;  the  Yankees  were  there  ;  and  old 
Pat  said:  '  Dont  fire,  boys,  till  you  see  the  whites  of 
the  Hessians'  eyes  !  '  "),  he  came  to  Worcester,  Mass., 
a  city  destined  to  be  for  ever  associated  with  his 
name.  Here  Mrs.  Gough  joined  him.  Worn  out 
by  destitution  and  racked  by  anxiety,  she  was  in  fail- 
ing health.  In  giving  birth  to  an  infant  she  died. 
The  child  followed  her.  Gough  was  "  alone,  in 
poverty,"  but  not  like  the  old  saint,  "  with  God." 
/  He  was  drunk  when  his  wife  and  child  died;  drunk 
.  at  the  funeral  ;  only  less  squalid  than  his  mother's; 
^  /  drunk  for  weeks  afterwards  and  unable  to  travel.  He 
i  /'  left  the  Diorama,  or  was  left  by  it,  and  had  recourse 
to  his  trade.  Hutchinson  and  Crosby,  bookbinders, 
gave  him  employment,  in  Worcester,  and  he  worked 
when  he  was  not  drunk — and  sometimes  when  he  was. 
Indeed,  nowadays  he  was  always  under  the  influence 
of  liquor;  it  was  only  a  question  of  more  or  less.  His 
employers  dismissed  him.  He  pleaded  for  reinstate- 
ment on  the  ground  of  utter  destitution  on  the  edge 
of  winter. 

"  Gough,"  said  Mr.  Hutchinson,  "  I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do.  You  shall  come  back,  provided  you'll  let 
us  keep  your  money  and  buy  for  you  what  you  need. 
If  you  don't  have  money  you  can't  get  drunk." 

Necessity  cannot  dictate  terms  —  it  accepts  them. 
But  after  twelve  years  of  self-support,  Gough  resented 
the  passing  under  tutelage.  He  records  this  as 
among  the  bitterest  of  his  humiliations.  He  had 
been  out-at-the-elbow  and  down-at-the-heel.  By  the 
present  arrangement  he  was  clothed  (though  not  "  in 
his  right  mind  "  ).  He  had  been  frequently  in  need 


DELIRIUM  TREMENS.  75 

of  food — actually  hungry.  He  was  now  sure  of  his 
meals.  He  had  been  shelterless.  A  roof  and  a  bed 
were  now  secured  to  him. 

The  lack  of  money  for  the  purchase  of  rum  kept 
him  sober,  did  it  not  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it  !  It  only  the 
more  keenly  aroused  his  appetite  and  developed  his 
inventive  faculties.  Whatever  household  possessions 
remained  to  him  were  speedily  drunk  up.  Then,  in 
the  evening,  when  the  shop  was  shut,  he  sought  one 
and  another  of  the  lowest  groggeries,  amused  the 
bummers  and  loafers  by  his  songs  and  stories,  and 
took  his  payment  in  "treats."  He  chuckled  to  him- 
self :  "  How  finely  I'm  outwitting  ol'd  Hutchinson  !  " 

Poor  fool  !  as  though  Hutchinson  had  any  interest 
in  the  case  aside  from  Cough's  own  good. 

On  a  certain  evening  when  "exhilarated  "  and  ripe 
for  mischief,  Gough,  accompanied  by  a  group  of  row- 
dies, adjourned  from  the  tap-room  to  a  neighboring 
church  in  which  second  advent  services  were  being 
held  in  anticipation  of  a  speedy  end  of  the  world. 
The  church  was  noisy  with  fervor.  Amid  a  fusil- 
lade of  glorys,  hallelujahs,  and  amens,  the  tipsy 
actor  seized  a  huge,  square,  wooden  spittoon,  filled 
with  sawdust,  quids  of  tobacco,  and  refuse,  and 
passing  down  the  aisle,  said:  "We  will  now  take 
p  a  contribution  for  the  purchase  of  ascension 
robes."  ' 

Amazement  quieted  the  audience.  Then  the  sac- 
rilegious clown  was  hustled  out  of  doors  and  handed 
over  to  the  police.  The  next  day  he  was  fined  for 
disturbing  public  worship.  An  anonymous  friend 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  119,  120. 


76  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

paid  the  fine — he  never  knew  who,  and  thus  saved  him 
from  jail. 

Again  came  delirium  tremens — again  the  descent  into 
hell — again  the  tortures  of  the  damned.  Pale  as  a 
ghost,  weak  as  a  child,  Gough  crawled  out  of  the 
house,  stopped  at  a  drug-store,  bought  laudanum, 
proceeded  to  the  railroad  track,  put  the  bottle  to  his 
lips,  and  was  about  to  make  an  exit  from  life  through 
the  door  of  suicide.  His  courage  failed.  He  dashed 
the  poison  to  the  ground,  and  barely  escaped  self- 
murder. 

Every  morning  he  resolved  to  reform.  Every  even- 
ing he  treated  resolution.  He  became  hateful  to  him- 
self, because  he  knew  he  was  an  object  of  universal 
contempt.  True,  he  might,  and  often  did,  change  his 
locality.  He  carried  his  environment  with  him,  how- 
ever, was  despised  as  soon  as  known,  and  might  cry 
with  the  fiend  in  "  Paradise  Lost  ": 

"  Me  miserable!  which  way  shall  I  fly  ? 
I  cannot  fly — myself  am  hell  {  " 


PART    IV. 

Recovery  and  Relapse 


"  For  to  will  is  present  with  me,  but  how  to 
perform  what  is  good  I  find  not.  For  the 
good  that  I  would,  I  do  not  ;  but  the  evil 
which  I  would  not,  that  I  Mo." 

—  ST.  PAUL,  Rom.  vii.  :i8,  19. 


I. 


THE  KIND  TOUCH  ON  THE  SHOULDER. 

IT  was  in  October,  1842, — the  last  Sunday  of  the 
month.  The  air  was  tonic.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  a 
poorly  clad  figure,  surmounted  by  a  flushed  face, 
came  out  of  a  house  in  the  mechanic  quarter  of  Wor- 
cester and  started  off  uncertainly  down  the  street. 
The  man  was  in  that  middle  state  between  sobriety 
and  intoxication  when  the  senses  are  acute  while  the 
spirit  is  melancholy.  Hating  the  drink  which  had 
unmanned  him,  he  was,  with  the  curious  inconsis- 
tency characteristic  of  his  kind,  proceeding  to  arum- 
hole  in  Lincoln  Square  to  get  a  dram. 

He  felt  a  kind  touch  on  the  shoulder. 

The  wayfarer  turned  and  saw  at  his  side  a 
stranger. 

"  Mr.  Gough,  I  believe,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  you  have  the  advan- 
tage of  me." 

"  My  name  is  Stratton — Joel  Stratton.  I'm  a  waiter 
yonder  in  the  Temperance  Hotel.  You've  been  drink- 
ing to-day." 

Mr.  Stratton's  manner  was  so  evidently  considerate 
and  friendly  that  Gough  could  not  take  offense. 

"  Yes,"  confessed  he,  "  I  have." 

"Why  don't  you  sign  the  pledge?" 


o  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  I  have  no  will,  no  hope,  no  future — nothing.  The 
drink  has  eaten  out  my  soul.  Alcohol  which  preserves 
snakes  destroys  men.  I  couldn't  keep  the  pledge  if  I 
took  it.  My  dreadful  condition  is  that  I  at  once  hate 
rum  and  crave  it." 

Mr.  Stratton  took  the  young  man's  arm  and  walked 
slowly  on  with  him. 

"  You  were  once  respectable,"  he  said;  "wouldn't 
you  like  to  be  so  again  ?  To  have  friends,  to  be  a  use- 
ful member  of  society?" 

'•  I  should  like  it  first-rate,"  retorted  Gough;  "but 
I  have  no  expectation  that  such  a  thing  will  ever 
happen." 

"  Only  sign  our  pledge,"  remarked  the  Good 
Samaritan,  "  and  I  will  warrant  it  shall  be  so.  Sign 
it,  and  I  will  myself  introduce  you  to  good  friends 
who  will  feel  an  interest  in  your  welfare  and  take 
pleasure  in  helping  you  to  keep  your  good  resolutions. 
Only  sign  the  pledge,  Mr.  Gough,  and  all  will  be  as  I 
have  said;  aye,  and  more,  too." 

Hope  stirred  the  embers  of  his  lost  manhood. 

Hope — it  had  been  lost  for  years. 

"  I  will  sign  the  pledge." 

"  When  ?  "  asked  his  friend. 

The  devil-appetite  suggested  delay.  "  You've 
done  enough  in  reaching  a  good  resolution.  Coddle 
this  good  resolution;  treat  it  once  more,"  whispered 
this  devil.  Gough  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said: 

"I  can't  do  it  to-night.  I  must  have  some  more 
drink  presently;  but  I  certainly  will  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Stratton  looked  at  him  sharply.  The  glance 
convinced  him  that  Gough  was  already  whirling  in  the 
maelstrom  of  drunkenness — that  should  he  sign  now 


THE    KIND    TOUCH    ON    THE    SHOULDER.  8l 

it  would  be  only  to  break  the  pledge.  He  showed  his 
practical  wisdom  by  not  insisting. 

"  We  have  a  temperance  meeting  in  the  town-hall 
to-morrow  evening,"  said  he;  "will  you  take  the 
pledge  then  ? " 

"  I  will !  " 

"  That  is  right,"  was  the  hearty  response.  "  I  will 
be  there  to  see  you." 

"  You  shall,"  said  Gough.     And  they  parted.1 

What  an  enigma  human  nature  is  !  The  sot  who 
had  just  resolved  that  he  would  be  temperate,  went 
straight  from  the  "  valley  of  decision,"  on  this  blessed 
Sunday  afternoon,  to  the  dram-shop  in  Lincoln 
Square,  which  had  been  his  objective  point  before  he 
met  his  resurrectionist.  He  gulped  down  glass  after 
glass  of  liquor.  How  good  it  seemed — never  had  it 
tasted  so  delicious  as  now,  when  it  was  about  to  be 
dropped  for  ever  !  Again  he  was  in  the  streets.  They 
were  filled  with  church-goers.  He  had  already 
worshiped,  with  Bacchus  for  a  god,  and  the  bar  for 
an  altar,  and  the  cup  for  a  Bible,  and  the  liquor-seller 
for  the  officiating  priest.  He  staggered  to  his  room, 
and  fell  on  the  bed,  dead  drunk. 

On  Monday  morning  he  arose,  pressed  his  hands  to 
his  swollen,  aching  head,  washed  the  stupor  out  of  his 
eyes  with  trembling  hands,  and,  without  breakfast- 
ing, hurried  away  to  the  shop.  We  do  not  know,  but 
we  suspect  that  his  work  was  ill-done  that  day.  His 
mind  was  not  on  it.  While  he  handled  the  wonted 
tools  of  his  trade,  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere — in 
distant  Sandgate  by  the  Sea — on  the  Oneida  County 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.    127-129. 
6 


82  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

farm — with  his  sainted  mother-— reflecting  upon  his 
vagabond  life — centered  on  his  dead  wife  and  baby — 
and  at  last  enmeshed  in  baser  associations.  "John 
Gilpin's  "  famous  ride  was  a  quiet  amble  compared 
with  this  wild,  reminiscent  gallop  of  the  mind,  as  the 
poor  mechanic  stood  there  in  front  of  the  work- 
bench, i 

All  the  while  the  consciousness  of  the  temperance 
meeting  called  for  that  evening,  when  he  had  prom- 
ised to  sign  the  pledge,  was  ever  present.  A  hundred 
times  he  said  to  himself,  "I  won't  sign  it!"  Just  as 
often  he  gritted  his  teeth,  and  said,  "  I  will!  "  He 
fought  numberless  Waterloo  battles  with  himself  on 
that  day. 

It  was  noon.  He  decided  not  to  go  to  the  meeting. 
It  was  afternoon.  He  resolved  to  go.  Night  fell. 
He  left  the  shop  with  his  mind  made  up:  "I'll  not 
sign  away  my  liberty!"  He  ate  no  supper— thought 
was  too  husy.  Up  in  his  room  he  said:  "  I'd  like  to 
go  to  the  town-hall,  but  I'm  too  •.  tired — I've  eaten 
nothing  to-day."  He  looked  at  the  clock.  It  was 
near  the  hour.  Without  waiting  to  think  longer,  he 
seized  his  hat,  buttoned  his  overcoat  over  his  rags  up 
to  the  chin,  and  fairly  rushed  away.  He  entered  the 
ha^ll  and  seated  himself.  There  was  a  call  for  the 
relation  of  experiences.  Acting  under  impulse, 
Gough  rose  and  told  his  wretched  story.  This  was 
his  first  speech  on  temperance. 

Joel  Stratton  was  there.  When  the  prodigal  ended 
his  narration,  he  brought  him  the  pledge  and  gave 
him  the  pen. 

Gough  signed  it — "  in  characters  almost  as  crooked 
as  those  of  old  Stephen  Hopkins  on  the  Declaration 


THE  KIND  TOUCH  ON  THE  SHOULDER. 


of  Independence."  It  was  his  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence! 

Did  that  scrawl  of  a  signature  emancipate  this 
slave  of  the  bottle  ?  Not  so.  Nor  did  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  free  America ;  it  took  eight 
years  of  bloody  warfare  to  do  that.  So  Gough's 
pledge  merely  initiated  his  freedom,' won  only  by  a 
terrific  succession  of  moral  Bunker  Hills,  and  Valley 
Forges,  and  Yorktowns. 

Miserable  days  and  nights  succeeded.  Many  times 
he  was  on  the  eve  of  giving  up  the  struggle.  "  To  be 
weak,"  says  Milton,  "is  to  be  miserable,  doing  or  suf- 
fering." His  will  had  been  rotted  by  alcohol,  as  acid 
rots  cloth.  His  nerves,  deprived  of  their  accustomed 
stimulants,  racked  him  like  so  many  inquisitors. 
His  stomach  loathed  wholesome  food,  and  rejected 
it.  Unwonted  abstinence  superinduced  delirium 
tremens  again.  There  were  hours  when  Gough 
would  have  bartered  his  soul  for  one  dram..  .But 
kind  friends  surrounded  him.  Their  encouraging 
words  helped  him.  Self-respect,  long  absent, 
returned  to  inspire  the  recovered  outcast.  A  tedious 
sickness  confined  him  to  the  bed,  so  that  he  could 
not  get  liquor.  With  time,  appetite  relaxed  the 
vigor  of  its  grip,  though  it  did  not  die  out — and 
never  did. 

.iii     h  r  i  r  i 

Out  of  "the  body  of  this  death  "  he  emerged  alive, 
and  only  alive.  "Those, who  saw  me,"  he  remarks, 
"might  have  said  as  was  said  of  Dante,  when  he 
passed  through  the  streets  of  Florence: 

"There's  the  man  that  has  been  in  hell."1 

i      '/•  1  I  i : 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  138. 


II. 


SMALL  BEGINNINGS  OF  A  GREAT  CAREER. 

THE  drunkard  is  proverbially  tattered  and  torn; 
has  no  regard  for  cleanliness  and  decency  of  apparel. 
Sobriety  restores  manhood;  and,  presto!  the  shoes 
are  blackened,  the  wardrobe  is  renovated,  the  hair  is 
combed,  the  inward  change  expresses  itself  through 
these  significant  outward'  signs.  For  seven  years 
(from  eighteen  to  twenty-five)  Gough  had  neglected 
his  person.  Having  signed  the  pledge,  he  straight- 
way new-clothed  himself.  This  was  not  vanity;  it 
was  self-respect. 

In  those  days  a  temperance  meeting  was  held  every 
Monday  night  in  Worcester.  The  reformed  mechanic 
became  a  regular  attendant.  The  week  following 
the  signing  of  the  pledge,  the  president  of  the  club 
observed  him,  and  asked  how  he  was  getting  on. 
Gough  rose  and  said: 

"  I  am  getting  on  very  well,  and  feel  a  good  deal 
better  than  I  did  a  week  ago."  ' 

This  was  his  second  temperance  address.  The 
Demosthenes  of  total  abstinence  had  a  genius  for 
oratory,  but  this  was  not  displayed  at  once.  At  the 
weekly  meetings  referred  to  he  usually  said  a  few 
words,  making  speeches  which  were  speechlets.  Gradu- 
ally he  enlarged  upon  the  theme,  kindled  it  with 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  140. 


SMALL  BEGINNINGS  OF  A  GREAT  CAREER.      85 

passion,  seasoned  it  with  humor,  enforced  it  with 
pathos.  Ere  long  the  nascent  orator  was  invited  to 
repeat  the  story  of  his  experience  in  outlying  towns. 
Thus  he  became  in  a  small  way  a  temperance  circuit 
rider.  He  had  as  yet  no  idea  of  making  a  business 
of  lecturing.  Nor  did  he  extemporize  his  reputation. 
Like  everything  else  of  value,  this  had  to  be  acquired. 
Months  of  practice  in  schoolhouses;  countless  verbal 
repetitions  of  his  biography,  aided  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  great  advocate's  powers.  His  custom 
was  to  work  at  the  bench  in  the  daytime,,  and  then 
ride  or  walk  in  the  evening  to  his  appointments  in 
the  neighborhood.  He  had  been  a  notorious  case. 
The  report  of  his  reformation  soon  spread  throughout 
the  locality.  The  audiences,  therefore,  were  large. 
Gough  was  a  natural  speaker.  Continual  practice 
did  the  rest. 

These  meetings  were  usually  held  in  schoolhouses 
or  town-halls,  a  number  of  speakers  taking  part.  At  a 
gathering  in  West  Boylston,  Mass.,  Gough  first  occu- 
pied the  whole  time,  and  earned  his  first  lecture-fee, 
$2,  so  that  the  occasion  was  doubly  memorable.1  As 
the  weeks  passed  the  local  demands  for  his  services 
increased  so  that  he  took  off  his  apron,  left  the  bind- 
ery, and  the  new  life  absorbed  him. 

And  now  as  the  apostle  of  temperance  begins  his 
labors,  it  should  seem  proper  to  review  the  history  of 
the  cause. 

Our  English  temperance  comes  from  a  Latin  word 
which  means  self-restraint,  viz.,  temperantia.  Its 
present  sense  restricts  it  to  abstinence  from  intoxi- 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  142. 


86  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

cants.  Nor  is  there  lacking  classical  authority  for 
this  use.  "  By  abstaining  from  sensual  indulgences," 
remarks  Aristotle,  "  we  become  temperate."  Xeno- 
phon  declares  that  the  term  temperance  means, 
first,  moderation  in  healthful  indulgence,  and, 
secondly,  abstinence  from  things  dangerous.  Plato 
devotes  the  first  two  out  of  the  twelve  books  of  his 
Laws  to  a  discussion  of  temperance  legislation,  and 
reaches  the  conclusion  that  there  is  a  distinction 
between  food  and  intoxicating  beverages — that  the 
one  should  be  used  in  moderation  and  the  other  pro- 
hibited. This,  too,  is  the  conclusion  of  Herodotus,  and 
of  Thomas  Acquinas,  and  the  mediaeval  schoolmen. 

The  vice  thus  banned  is  as  old  as  authentic  history. 
It  began  with  Noah,  and  went  with  his  sons,  Shem, 
Japhet,  and  Ham,  through  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe. 
Drunkenness  disfigures  the  Patriarchal  era,  the  Mosaic 
dispensation,  the  Egyptian,  Persian,  Greek,  and 
Roman  militarisms,  and  the  Christian  economy— all 
hiccough  and  stagger.  The  classics  are  foul  with 
intemperance;  Anacreon  is1  the  poet-laureate  of  the 
ancient  pot-house.  And  English  literature  up  to 
within  a  hundred  years  is  similarly  poisoned.  Pages, 
which  otherwise  laugh  with  wit,  like  those  of  Field- 
ing and  Smollet.  have  to  be  expurgated  into  decency 
before  we  dare  place  them  on  the  center  table. 

Tacitus  paints  the  ancient  Britons  as  gluttons  and 
sots,  and  the  Roman  is  confirmed  by  the  Venerable 
Bede.  Our  German  ancestors,  before  they  streamed 
out  of •  their  primeval  forests  into  civilization  and 
Christianity  conceived  of  heaven  as  a  drunken  revel. 
With  such  an  origin  is  it  any  wonder  that  drunken- 
ness is  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  blood  ? 


SMALL    BEGINNINGS    OF   A    GREAT    CAREER.  8/ 

The  inebriating  principle  in  liquor  is  alcohol— a 
modern  name  for  an  old  devil.  We  have  borrowed 
the  designation  from  the  Arabs,  one  of  whose  chem- 
ists (Albucasis),  in  the  eleventh  century,  discovered 
an  artificial  method  of  producing  it — although  the 
Chinese  knew  the  secret  long  before  that,  and  anath- 
ematized the  inventor,  Iti.  The  chemists  of  the 
Middle  Ages  called  alcohol  aqua  vita— water  of  life. 
It  has  proved  to  be  the  water  of  death.  'Tis,  in  fact, 
the  juice  of  decay,  naturally  produced  by  fermenta- 
tion, artificially  produced  by  distillation,  which  simply 
hastens  decomposition. 

Distillation  cheapened  alcohol,  and  so  when  it  came 
into  general  use,  enabled  the  poorest  to  have  a  "familiar 
spirit."  The  result  has  been  especially  disastrous  in 
Europe  and  America.  By  the  close  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  drunkenness  was  national  and  inter- 
national. Great  Britain  suffered  worst  of  all.  The 
use  of  distHled  spirits,  and  the  resultant  evils,  attracted 
universal  attention.  Hogarth's  shocking  cartoon  of 
"  Gin  Lane  "  was  tame  compared  with  the  actual  fact. 
The  historian  Smollet,  referring  to  London,  says: 
"  The  populace  were  sunk  into  the  most  brutal  de- 
generacy by  drinking  to  excess  the  pernicious  spirit 
called  gin,  which  was  sold  so  cheap  that  the  lowest 
class  of  the  people  could  afford  to  indulge  themselves 
iri  one  continuous  state  of  intoxication,  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  all  morals,  industry,  and  order.  Such  a  shame- 
ful degree  of  profligacy  prevailed  that  the  retailers  of 
the  poisonous  compound  set  up  painted  boards  in 
public  inviting  people  to  drink  for  the  small  expense 
of  one  penny,  assuring  them  that  they  might  be  dead 
drunk  for  twopence,  and  have  straw  for  nothing. 


83  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

They  accordingly  provided  cellars  and  places  strewed 
with  straw  to  which  they  conveyed  those  wretches 
who  were  overwhelmed  with  intoxication.  In  these 
dismal  caverns  they  lay  until  they  recovered  some 
use  of  their  faculties,  and  then  they  had  recourse  to 
the  same  mischievous  potion,  thus  consuming  their 
health  and  ruining  their  families  in  hideous  receptacles 
of  the  most  filthy  vice,  resounding  with  riot,  execra- 
tion and  blasphemy."  ' 

Nor  was  drunkenness  the  peculiar  vice  of  the 
lowest — the  highest  werev  transgressors.  Boling- 
broke,  at  the  head  of  affairs,  Addison  in  the  Depart- 
ment of  State,  Walpole,  the  Prime  Minister,  at  once 
set  and  followed  the  bad  example,  and  Oxford,  other- 
wise a  high  character,  went  frequently  intoxicated 
into  the  very  presence  of  the  Queen — and  went  with- 
out rebuke! 

In  contemporaneous  America  the  situation  was  as 
bad  or  worse.  The  colonies  were  soaked  in  rum. 
Liquor-selling  was  a  branch  of  other  and  reputable 
lines  of  trade.  Everybody  drank,  and  almost  every- 
body got  drunk.  Independence,  which  brought  polit- 
ical relief,  did  not  affect  this  evil.  Through  the 
eighteenth  and  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
turies people  drank  as  they  ate,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
A  decanter  stood  on  every  sideboard.  The  guest  who 
did  not  pledge  his  host,  the  host  who  did  not  drink 
the  health  of  his  guest,  was  deemed  uncivil.  Farmers 
supplied  their  "  help  "  with  grog  as  they  did  with 
bread.  Was  there  a  house  raising  ?  It  was  signalized 
by  a  free  provision  of  rum  and  a  general  carousal.  A 


1  "  History  of  England,"  Vol.  III.,  chap.  7. 


SMALL    BEGINNINGS    OF    A    GREAT    CAREER.'  89 

funeral  ?  The  attendants  were  "  treated  "  as  part  of  the 
ceremony.  A  lawyer,  like  Daniel  Webster,  was  not 
singular  when  he  held  on  by  the  rail  in  order  to  stand 
and  argue  a  case,  half  drunk,  in  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States.  Famous  doctors  went  drunk 
to  their  patients.  Clerical  conventions  were  opened 
and  closed  with  a  glass  of  grog  as  regularly  as  they 
were  with  prayer;  the  one  was  as  orthodox  as  the 
other.  Religious  denominations  were  noted  for 
"  never  giving  up  a  '  pint '  of  doctrine  or  a  pint  of  rum." 
The  entrance  to  a  hotel  was  sure  to  lie  through  the 
bar-room.  Everybody  ordered  wine  for  dinner, 
whether  it  was  drank  or  not — not  to  do  so  was 
thought  "  mean. "  In  those  days  three-quarters  of  the 
farms  of  Massachusetts  were  sold  under  the  hammer 
for  rum  debts.1  That  is  to  say,  liquor  was  regarded 
as  a  necessary  part  of  private  and  public  provender. 
The  man  who  did  not  drink  was  exceptional — was 
tabooed  as  unconvivial.  He  who  could  tip  the  largest 
number  of  bottles  and  lie  last  under  the  table,  was 
looked  upon  as  the  truest  gentleman.  To  be  carried 
habitually  drunk  to  bed  was  a  patent  of  nobility. 
"As  drunk  as  a  lord,"  is  a  proverb  inherited  from 
those  times. 

Was  nothing  done  through  all  these  ages  to  anti- 
dote this  poison  ?  Various  remedies  were  suggested, 
some  few  were  attempted,  but  these  were  only  palli- 
atives. Acts  of  Parliament  in  England,  statutes 
in  America,  were  framed  in  the  interest  of  restric- 


1  Wendell  Pliillips's  "  Review  of  Dr.  Howard  Crosby's  'Calm 
View  of  Temperance,'"  pub.  by  Am.  Nat.  Tern.  Soc'y,  New  York 
City,  1881. 


90  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

tion,  but  were  vitiated  by  some  form  of  license,  con- 
strued into  sanction.  In  1785,  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush 
published  his  essay  against  ardent  spirits,  and  thus 
began  a  period  of  preparation.  More  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century  later  (in  1825),  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  added 
his  magnificent  contribution  in  "  Six  Sermons  on  In- 
temperance"; each  one  a  columbiad,  whose  detona- 
tion aroused  the  sleeping  conscience  of  the  Church. 
The  evil  was  so  present,  so  visible,  that  when  their  at- 
tention was  called  to  it,  other  clergymen  of  prominence, 
like  Dr.  Justin  Edwards,  and  Dr.  Leonard  Woods 
began  to  inveigh  against  it.  Within  two  decades 
most  of  the  clergy  of  New  England  had  become  ab- 
stainers. Temperance  societies  were  organized— one 
of  the  earliest  being  the  American  Society  for  the 
Promotion  of  Temperance,  in  Boston,  in  1826.  Tem- 
perance newspapers  were  also  foujided.  Of  these 
The  National  Philanthropist,  established  by  William 
Collier,  a  Baptist  city  missionary,  in  Boston,  also  in 
1826,  deserves  special  mention,  as  it  was  the  first 
newspaper  in  the  world  which  was  devoted  to  the 
temperance  cause  and  which  advocated  total  absti- 
nence. This  sheet  was  the  mate,  in  a  kindred  reform, 
of  The  Liberator,  organ  of  the  Abolitionists.  And, 
significantly  enough,  Wm.  Lloyd  Garrison  served  an 
editorial  apprenticeship  in  the  office  of  The  National 
Philanthropist  before  he  graduated  into  'The  Liberator. 
By  the  year  1834,  the  reform  movement  had  spread 
to  twenty-one  States,  and  5,060  local  temperance 
societies  had  been  organized,  with  a  membership  of 
1,000,000  strong.  Before  the  close  of  that  decade,  at 
least  three  States,  viz.,  Tennessee  (in  1838),  and  Missis- 
sippi and  Ohio  (both  in  1839),  had  enacted  prohibitory 


SMALL  BEGINNINGS  OF  A  GREAT  CAREER.     91 

laws — advanced  ground  which  they  soon  abandoned. 

In  1840  the  Rev.  Matthew  Hale  Smith  lectured  in 
Baltimore,  Md.,  on  the  evils  of  intemperance.  One 
or  two  men  heard  him  who  were  members  of  a 
mechanic's  drinking-club,  which  met  in  the  tap-room 
of  an  adjourning  tavern.  They  carried  back  to  the 
pot-house  a  report  of  the  discourse.  The  question 
was  hotly  debated  between  the  members.  As  the 
outcome,  six  of  them  went  over  to  total  abstinence, 
established  an  organization  which  they  called  "  The 
Washingtonian  Temperance  Society,"  and  started  an 
active  propaganda.  These  six  original  apostles  were 
presently  joined  by  a  seventh,  J.  H.  W.  Hawkins,  a 
reformed  inebriate,  who  became  the  St.  Paul  of  "  the 
Washingtonians,"  as  they  were  popularly  called. 
Washingtonianism  caught  from  town  to  town  and 
kindled  from  State  to  State.  Hundreds  of  thousands 
signed  the  pledge  under  its  auspices,  most  of  them 
drinking  men. 

In  this  wonderful  movement  there  were  two  radical 
defects.  First,  it  was  based  on  mere  moral  suasion 
— upon  what  it  called  "  the  law  of  love,"  and  discoun- 
tenanced any  appeal  to  prohibitive  law.  Second,  it 
ignored  religion— when  it  did  not  antagonize  it.  A 
movement  thus  operated  by  sentimentalism  and  in- 
fidelity could  hardly  be  long  lived,  even  though  it 
sought  to  remedy  an  evil  like  intemperance.  When 
the  novelty  wore  off,  Washingtonianism  began  to 
"  dwindle,  break,  and  pine."  But  while  it  lasted  it 
started  agents  and  agencies  more  potent  than  itself, 
which  gather  force  as  the  years  roll  on. 

It  was  in  this  temperance  revival  that  John  B. 
Gough  was  born  again. 


III. 


TEMPTED. 

MR.  GOUGH  was  now  fully  occupied  as  a  Washing- 
tonian  lecturer.  His  reputation  and  engagements  were 
as  yet  local.  The  first,  however,  waxed  daily;  and 
as  for  the  others,  towns  crowded  one  another  in  the 
effort  to  secure  his  services. 

He  sadly  missed  at  this  time  a  wise  and  watchful 
intimate  to  moderate  his  pace.  Unused  to  the  new 
life,  which  was  very  exciting,  deprived  of  a  stimu- 
lus to  which  he  had  been  long  wedded,  he  was  in 
grave  moral  danger.  The  peril  was  aggravated  by  a 
feeling  of  self-sufficiency  which  now  puffed  him  up. 
Poor  fellow !  yesterday  an  outcast,  to-day  a  favorite 
— is  it  any  wonder  that  his  head  swelled  again  as  it 
swelled  of  old,  though  from  a  different  cause  ? 

"  Pride  goeth  before  a  fall."  Gough  needed  to 
fall  in  order  to  rise — to  realize  his  weakness  that  he 
might  find  his  strength. 

He  had  abstained  for  five  months.  He  believed 
his  appetite  conquered — and  by  himself.  Knowing 
little  of  medicine,  he  was  not  alarmed  by  certain 
symptoms  which  were  danger-signals — extreme  rest- 
lessness, occasional  incoherence  of  thought  and 
speech,  a  sense  of  apprehension,  and  an  intense  nerv- 
ousness which  made  the  slamming  of  a  door  jar  his 


TEMPTED.  93 

whole  system.  A  good  physician,  observing  these 
symptoms  would  have  prescribed  rest  and  quiet.  His 
doctor  gave  him  tincture  of  tolu,  with  opium — the 
worst  prescription  imaginable. 

One  day  he  dropped  his  engagements  and  took 
the  cars  to  Boston,  without  a  purpose,  save  to  do 
something.  It  was  a  case  of  nervous  prostration;  he 
feared  delirium  tremens.  Hallucinations  already 
haunted  him.  In  Boston  he  went  to  the  theater — 
met  some  former  associates — told  them  of  his  strange 
feelings — accompanied  them  to  an  oyster-house,  and 
— took  brandy! 

He  took  it  thoughtlessly.  When  he  had  swallowed 
it,  he  felt  as  Peter  did  after  he  had  denied  Christ,  and 
the  cock  crew.  To  drown  thought  he  drank  repeat- 
edly, but  not  to  intoxication.  From  Boston  the 
fallen  lecturer  went  to  Newburyport,  drawn  thither 
unconsciously  by  old  associations.  The  news  of  his 
reform  had  preceded  him — but  not  of  his  relapse. 
Friends  of  the  cause  urged  him  to  speak  there.  He 
did,  twice,  though  agonized  by  his  false  position. 
After  a  few  days  he  returned  to  Boston,  where  he 
also  stayed  for  several  days,  drinking  in  the  mean- 
while, and  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  what  to  do. 
His  temperance  career  was  closed — there  was  no 
doubt  of  that.  But  he  £ould  be  a  sober  man.  He 
resolved  to  go  back  to  Worcester,  confess  his  fault, 
then  depart  to — no  matter  where. 

Gough  reached  Worcester  on  a  Saturday,  went 
directly  to  several  of  his  closest  friends,  told  them 
what  had  occurred,  resigned  the  pledge,  and  packed 
h?s  belongings  preparatory  to  leaving  town.  He  was 
urged  to  wait  and  attend  the  well-known  temperance 


94  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

meeting  on  Monday  night.  He  did;  and  in  a  pathetic 
address  which  melted  speaker  and  auditors,  sobbed 
out  the  story  of  his  sin  and  penitence.  Resolutions 
of  sympathy  and  confidence  were  publicly  adopted. 
The  sin  was  condoned.  The  penitent  was  reinstated. 

Mr.  Gough  was  an  apt  scholar  That  relapse  in 
Boston  led  him  to  see  that  a  change  in  the  will  is  a 
different  thing  from  a  change  in  the  appetite.  A  de- 
praved appetite  lies  couchant  in  the  body,  like  a  tiger 
in  a  jungle,  ready  to  spring  out  and  craunch  when- 
ever the  victim  is  unwary.  He  thus  detected  one  fatal 
defect  in  Washingtonianism  which  was  based  on  moral 
suasion.  Reflection  .taught  him,  too,  the  absolute 
necessity  of  religious  principle.  A  higher  power  than 
man  sways  is  required  to  hold  an  infirm  will  to  a 
righteous  purpose  and  the  appetite  in  subordination. 
Appeals  to  "manhood"  tickle  human  vanity;  but 
while  they  please,  they  damn.  One  "hid  with  Christ 
in  God  "  is  safe.  And  so  he  preceived  the  second 
philosophical  error  in  the  Washingtonian  crusade— 
its  neglect  of  personal  piety  as  the  most  stable  founda- 
tion in  reform. 

Strange,  that  a  third  great  truth  did  not  dawn 
upon  his  consciousness,  viz.,  the  importance  of 
prohibitive  law  as  an  indispensable  safeguard, 
tyjien  he  went  into  the  streets  of  the  New  Eng- 
land metropolis  on  that  sad  day,  they  were  set 
thick  with  pitfalls.  A  weak  or  depraved  man  was 
almost  sure  to  trip  and  fall  into  vice.  Prohibition 
would  have  closed  those  abounding  doors,  and  made 
the  streets  comparatively  safe  for  feet  like  his  to 
tread. 

Moreover,  prevention  is  better  than  cure.  Prohibit- 


TEMPTED.  95 

ive  law  seeks  to  forestall  temptation.  It  contemplates 
the  salvation  of  the  drunkard;  but  it  does  more — it 
aims  at  the  preservation  of  unsoiled  youth  and  inex- 
perience. Under  such  a  law  Gough  would  not  have 
become  a  drunkard — would  have  been  saved  from 
those  seven  years  of  sin  and  shame.  Eventually,  he 
reached  this  truth,  also;  but  not  as  early  as  might 
have  been  expected. 

The  relation  between  these  three  great  parts  of 
temperance  is  obvious.  Moral  suasion  in  the  wrecker's 
boat  rowed  through  the  surf  to  clutch  from  the 
fiery  waves  of  alcohol  the  wretches  who  have  made 
shipwreck  of  manhood.  Re.igion  nurses  them  back 
to  health  and  strength  after  they  have  been  brought 
ashore.  Prohibitive  law  prevents  further  shipwrecks 
by  removing  the  rocks  or  shoals  which  imperil  the 
voyage  of  life. 

Reformed  inebriates  sometimes  imagine  that,  after 
a  period  of  abstinence,  they  can  begin  again  and 
drink  moderately.  There  is  no  case  on  record  of 
success  in  such  an  undertaking.  And  for  the  reason 
already  mentioned — the  will  is  weakened  and  the  ap- 
petite depraved.  Indulgence  leads  inevitably,  invari- 
ably to  excess.  Moderate  men  may  drink  moderately, 
provided  they  have  never  been  drunkards,  although 
even  they  are  in  danger.  But  for  those  who  have 
been  down,  and  are  now  up,  there  is  only  one  rule — 
total  abstinence. 

And  so,  as  it  concerns  men  whose  temperament  is 
nervous,  susceptible  men,  pushing  and  shoving  men, 
whose  pulses  throb  with  energy,  and  whose  being  is 
marked  plus — for  such  total  abstinence  is  the  only 
safe  practice.  "  I  can  abstain,"  said  old  Dr.  Samuel 


96  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Johnson;  "  I  can't  be  moderate."  As  for  Mr.  Gough, 
he  testified,  years  after  he  had  stopped  drinking,  that 
the  mere  smell  of  brandy  gave  him  a  raging  thirst 
for  it  which  God's  grace  alone  quenched.  His  life 
was  a  battle.  Like  the  bravos  who  skulked  under 
the  shadows  in  mediaeval  Venice,  appetite  and  tempt- 
ation dogged  his  footsteps  with  poisoned  stiletto, 
watching  for  a  chance  to  strike.  He  illustrated  the 
saying  of  Goethe  that  "  He  only  earns  his  freedom 
and  existence  who  daily  conquers  them  anew." 


PART  V. 
In  the  Arena 


"  We  do  not  take  possession  of  our  ideas, 
but  are  possessed  by  them.  They  mas- 
ter us  and  force  us  into  the  arena, 
where,  like  gladiators,  we  must  fight 

for  them." 

— HEINE. 


ON   THE    PLATFORM. 

THE  speed  with  which  Mr.  Gough  got  upon  his 
feet  after  the  fall  in  Boston  is  proof  of  his  grit.  Fold- 
ing that  experience  he  marked  it  "important,"  filed 
it  away  in  his  memory  for  future  reference,  and  at 
once  resumed  his  labors  in  the  cause  of  temperance. 

"  Possessed  by  the  one  dread  thought  that  lent 
Its  goad  to  his  fiery  temperament, 
Up  and  over  the  land  he  went, 
A  John  the  Baptist,  crying — '  Repent ! ' " 

During  the  earlier  half  of  his  first  year  in  the  work, 
he  made  his  name  and  fame  known  in  Worcester 
County  ;  in  the  latter  half  he  became  a  magnet 
throughout  New  England.  He  was  ubiquitous — 
indefatigable.  "  In  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
days,"  he  says,  "  I  gave  three  hundred  and  eighty- 
three  addresses,  and  received  for  them  $1,059-— out  of 
which  I  paid  all  my  traveling  expenses  ;  traveled  six 
thousand,  eight  hundred  and  forty  miles;  and 
obtained  fifteen  thousand,  two  hundred  and  eighteen 
signatures  to  the  pledge."  ' 

Facts  of  this  kind  he  habitually  jotted  down  in  a 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.  160. 


IOO  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

vade  mecum.  He  could  have  earned  more  money  at 
bookbinding  ;  but  his  heart  was  set  now  upon  some- 
thing better  than  money.  Sometimes,  however,  the 
meanness  or  thoughtlessness  of  his  audience  put  him 
in  straits.  In  1843  his  average  pay  for  a  lecture  was 
$2.77  !  "  Once,"  he  writes,  "  after  I  had  been  speak- 
ing for  nearly  two  hours,  and  had  taken  my  seat,  the 
chairman  rose  and  proposed  a  vote  of  thanks,  which 
was  passed  unanimously.  As  the  audience  were  being 
dismissed  I  asked  if  that  vote  of  thanks '  could  be  given 
me  in  writing?  as  perhaps  the  conductor  on  the  train 
would  take  it  for  my  fare.'  The  hint  was  sufficient, 
and  a  collection  was  taken  up,  amounting  to  $4."  l 

In  September,  1843,  Gough  spoke  for  the  first  time 
in  Boston.  He  had  avoided  that  town,  because  he 
underrated  his  own  ability  and  overrated  Boston  cul- 
ture— which,  like  many  others,  he  believed  to  be  four 
feet  thick  on  a  level.  Probably  the  American  Athens 
was  a  formidable  arena.  Intelligence  was  as  high 
there  as  anywhere  in  the  New  World  ;  and  many  of 
the  most  famous  speakers  of  the  day  were  Boston 
men.  There  Otis  and  Adams  and  Ames  and  Quincy 
had  thundered  ;  there  Webster  and  Everett  and 
Choate  and  Wendell  Phillips,  were  "  names  to  conjure 
with."  No  wonder  the  young  mechanic  shrank  from 
the  ordeal. 

At  a  temperance  gathering  in  rural  Massachusetts, 
in  the  summer  of  1843,  he  met  and  made  a  lifelong 
friend — Deacon  Moses  Grant.  This  gentleman  was 
a  Bostonian,  the  son  of  one  of  the  revolutionary  tea- 
spillers,  a  wealthy  merchant,  and  the  president  of  the 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.  161. 


ON    THE    PLATFORM.  IOI 

Boston  Temperance  Society.  Mr.  Grant  had  traveled 
in  Europe,  and  had  been  liberally  educated  in 
America.  He  was  of  a  nervous,  sanguine  tempera- 
ment, under  the  medium  size,  and  had  a  habit  of 
twitching  the  muscles  of  his  face  and  shrugging  his 
shoulders  when  specially  interested — a  peculiarity 
which  Gough  instantly  detected.  He  wrote  a  sensi- 
ble letter,  made  a  practical  speech,  was  peculiarly 
happy  in  his  remarks  to  children,  and  was  in  demand 
as  chairman  on  all  philanthropic  occasions. 

It  was  this  good  man  who  had  invited  Gough  to 
Boston.  After  no  little  hesitation,  he  consented  to 
become  Mr.  Grant's  guest,  and  to  speak  under  his 
auspices. 

A  mortification  met  the  young  orator  on  the 
threshold.  He  was  arrested  for  debt.  During  the 
Arab  days,  when  drunkenness  and  poverty  were  his 
inseparable  companions,  he  had  "  remembered  to 
forget  "  to  pay  a  board  bill  in  Boston.  The  landlady 
saw  the  announcement  of  his  lecture,  recognized  the 
name,  found  out  where  he  lodged,  and  dispatched  an 
officer  to  collect  the  debt  ($20),  or  collar  the  debtor. 
From  this  dilemma  Deacon  Grant  extricated  the 
impecunious  lecturer,  and  bore  him  off  in  triumph  to 
the  meeting  in  Tremont  Chapel,  under  the  Boston 
Museum. 

Mr.  Gough  acquitted  himself  so  satisfactorily  that 
he  was  engaged  on  the  spot  to  speak  three  nights 
more  in  Boston,  which  he  did  to  ever-increasing 
audiences,  and  amid  great  enthusiasm.  And  ever 
after  the  announcement  of  his  name  was  sure  to 
crowd  the  largest  halls  in  the  city. 

After  a  few  weeks  spent   in   circling  around  the 


102  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  Hub,"  "  temperancing,"  as  he  used  to  say,  and 
creating  a  furore  everywhere — at  Nashua,  N.  H. 
(where  he  spoke  with  Franklin  Pierce,  afterwards 
President  of  the  United  States,  as  a  fellow  talker); 
Concord,  N.  H.;  New  Bedford,  Marblehead, and  then 
down  into  the  "  Old  Colony,"  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Plymouth  Rock — Gough  ran  back  to  Boston.  Thence, 
on  the  23d  of  November,  1843,  he  proceeded  to  Boyl- 
ston,  near  Worcester,  to  be  married. 

Some  time  before  this  he  had  spoken  in  Boylston, 

aftd    had    met   a   certain    lady    destined    to   become 

another  self — a  feminine  and,  therefore,  etherealized 

Self,  and   a  helpmeet  in  very  truth.     Her  name  was 

\      Mary  Whitcomb.     She  was  a  New  England  farmer's 

\/daughter,  a  Yankee  schoolma'am,  physically  strong, 

intellectually  alert  and  appreciative,  morally  sweet 

and  pure,  and  a  devoted  Christian. 

"A  creature  not  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food — 
For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 
Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  smiles. 
A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  ; 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  an  angel  light." 

During  their  brief  courtship  of  a  few  weeks,  they 
talked  of  religion  rather  than  of  love;  but  is  not 
religion  love  ?  "  She  took  me  on  trusf,"  remarks  the 
husband,  "  with  $3.50  in  my  pocket;  but  Mary  was 
willing  to  risk  it  with  me."  ' 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  172. 


ON    THE    PLATFORM.  103 

Mary  Whitcomb  understood  John  Gough  by  intu- 
ition —  his  weakness,  his  strength;  saw  what  he 
required  to  transmute  the  first  into  the  last,  and  sup- 
plied the  means.  They  were  married_mi__the  24th  of 
y  a  ministerial  mutual  friend,  in 


Wofcester,  with  Spartan  simplicity  —  "  no  bridal 
wreaths  or  gifts;  no  wedding-ring  or  cards;  no 
bridesmaids  or  groomsmen  —  only  they  two  agreeing 
to  walk  the  journey  of  life  together."  From  this  date 
on  for  years,  Mary  Gough  accompanied  her  husband 
everywhither,  prolonging  his  life  by  her  care,  and 
doubling  his  usefulness  by  her  inspiration. 

Mr.  Gough's  manner  of  speaking  was  so  exhausting 
(to  him)  that  when  he  closed  a  lecture  he  dripped 
with  perspiration;  his  clothes  were  wringing  wet;  his 
vitality  was  spent;  he  was  in  a  state  of  collapse. 
Hours  of  attention  were  necessary  in  order  to  soothe 
him  into  quietude.  He  had  to  be  recuperated  with 
bath  and  food;  nor  did  sleep  come  until  long  past 
midnight.  His  wife  made  herself  his  nurse  —  his 
"  brave,  faithful  Mary!  " 

The  young  couple  went  from  Worcester  back  to 
Boston;  where  the  proud  husband  introduced  the 
bride  to  Deacon  Grant.  The  good  deacon,  realizing 
the  fact  that  marriage  makes  or  mars  two  lives,  had 
been  doubtful  about  the  choice  of  his  prottgt.  When 
he  saw  her  he  said: 

"John,  she'll  do!" 

And,  Gough  adds  the  comment  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury later,  "  nobly  she  has  done." 

They  fixed  their  residence  in  Roxbury,  now  a  divi- 
sion of  Boston.  The  groom  spoke  that  very  evening 
in  Roxbury  on  his  favorite  theme,  rested  on  the  Sun- 


104  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

day  which  followed,  and  then  went  on  with  his  work, 
spending  the  honeymoon  and  the  weeks  that  suc- 
ceeded, on  the  platform. 

In  the  spring  of  1844,  with  Mrs.  Gough  for  a  travel- 
ing companion,  he  visited  New  York  City  to  attend 
the  anniversary  of  the  American  Temperance  Union, 
on  the  gth  of  May.  The  meeting  was  held  in  the 
Broadway  Tabernacle,  an  historic  hall  long  since 
demolished.  Gough's  name  was  not  as  familiar  then 
as  it  soon  became.  As  he  rose  to  speak,  towards  the 
end  of  a  long  session,  many  people  rose  with  him — 
to  leave;  not  a  common  practice  in  his  experience, 
even  then.  But  those  who  remained  enjoyed  a  treat. 

Various  other  points  in  the  Middle  States  were 
visited  on  this  tour — Brooklyn,  Newark,  Philadelphia, 
Baltimore,  among  the  number.  Then  Boston  was 
sought  again,  where  a  notable  temperance  celebra- 
tion was  held  on  the  3oth  of  May,  with  the  city 
dressed  as  gaily  as  Venice  used  to  be  when  the  3ge 
wedded  the  city  by  the  sea  to  the  sea:  stores  closed 
an  endless  procession  in  the  streets,  a  monster  mass- 
meeting  on  the  Common,  and  a  grand  finale  in  the 
evening  in  Faneuil  Hall,  with  Gough  for  the  orator. 

Off  again:  this  time  to  deliver  a  series  of  thirty 
addresses  in  western  New  York  (where  Mr.  Gough 
pointed  out  to  "  Mary  "  the  Oneida  farm) — compen- 
sation, $10  a  lecture,  the  itinerants  paying  their  own 
expenses.  They  were  not  likely  to  get  rich  on  such 
terms. 

"  No  matter,  John,"  said  Mary;  "  we  are  doing  the 
Lord's  work." 

It  was  during  this  tour  that  the  couple  first  saw 
Niagara  Falls.  "  I  thought,"  comments  Gough,  "  that 


ON    THIS    PLATFORM.  105 

a  parallel  might  be  drawn  between  the  stream,  rapids, 
and  cataract  before  me,  and  the  stream,  rapids,  and 
cataract  of  drunkenness.  Above  the  Falls  of  Intem- 
perance the  water  is  bright  and  smooth,  thousands 
who  embark  on  that  placid  stream,  as  it  glides  down 
and  comes  into  the  rapids,  are  swept  on  with  fearful 
rapidity,  and  sent  into  the  gulf  at  a  rate  of  30,000, 
40,000,  and  50,000  a  year,  a  dreadful  waste  of  human 
life.  The  friends  of  humanity  see  this  terrible  destruc- 
tion; they  station  themselves  above,  and  cry  out  to 
the  people,  '  Back!  back  for  your  lives:  none  escape 
who  get  into  these  rapids  except  by  miracle.' " ' 

Upon  reaching  Boston  again,  now  their  headquart- 
ers, Mrs.  Gough  proved  the  strength  of  her  influence 
for  good  over  her  husband  by  pursuading  him  to  unite 
with  the  Church.  She  was  already  a  Church  mem- 
ber, and  transferred  her  membership  by  letter  to  the 
Mount  Vernon  Congregational  Church,  in  Boston, 
Mr.  Gough  coming  into  the  fold  upon  confession  of 
his  faith.  In  the  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  E.  N.  Kirk, 
both  found  a  warm  and  helpful  friend,  in  full  sym- 
pathy with  their  spiritual  and  moral  aims.  Dr.  Kirk 
possessed  remarkable  pulpit  gifts  and  graces,  and  was 
a  tongue  of  Penticostal  fire  in  his  day. 

With  his  feet  thus  set  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  set 
to  stay,  and  with  such  a  wife  at  his  side,  the  young 
lecturer  felt  strong  to  do  and  dare  for  God  and 
humanity. 

The  close  of  the  year,  1844,  was  selected  by  the 
friends  of  temperance  in  Boston  for  another  demon- 
stration in  Faneuil  Hall.  A  vast  audience  assembled 


1  "  Platform  Echoes,"  pp.  617-618. 


JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

fo  hear  and  cheer  Mr.  Gough.     It  was  on   this  occa- 
rsion    that   he   introduced  his   apostrophe    to    water, 
which    soon    became    famous   across   the   continent. 
Holding  in  his  hand  a  glass  filled  with  it,  he  said  : 

Is  not  this  beautiful  ?  Talk  of  ruby  wine.  Here 
our  beverage — water,  pure  water;  we  drink  it  to 
'quench  our  thirst.  There  is  no  occasion  to  drink  ex- 
cept to  quench  one's  thirst ;  and  here  is  the  beverage 
our  Father  has  provided  for  His  children.  When 
Moses  smote  the  rock  the  people  were  thirsty,  and  it 
was  water  that  came  forth,  not  wine,  or  rum,  or  ale. 
Were  you  ever  thirsty,  with  lips  dry  and  feverish,  and 
throat  parched  ?  Did  you  never  lift  the  goblet  of 
pure  water  to  your  lips  and  feel  it  trickling  over  the 
tongue  and  gurgling  down  the  throat  ?  Was  it  not 
luxury  ?  Give  to  the  traveler  on  the  burning  desert, 
as  he  lies  perishing  with  thirst,  a  goblet  of  cold  water, 
and  he  will  return  the  goblet  heaping  with  gold  ; 
give  him  wine,  rum,  or  ale,  and  he  turns  away  in 
feverish  disgust  to  die.  Our  beverage  is  beautiful 
and  pure,  for  God  brewed  it — not  in  the  distillery, 
but  out  of  the  earth." 

The  orator  then  described  it  as  enveloping  the  earth 
in  wintry  mantle,  as  rolling  up  the  valley  in  the  cloud- 
mist,  settling  on  the  mountain-top,  and  descending  in 
the  rain;  and  painted  it  in  the  streamlet,  in  the  rain- 
bow, beautiful  always  and  blessed;  no  curse  in  it,  no 
heartbroken  mother  or  pale-faced  wife,  no  starving 
child  nor  dying  drunkard  to  lament  its  existence,  and 
he  concluded: 

"  '  Give  water  to  me,  bright  water  to  me, 
It  cooleth  the  brow,  it  cooleth  the  brain. 
It  maketh  the  weak  man  strong  again.' 


ON    THE    PLATFORM.  107 

"Tell  me,  young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and 
matrons,  will  you  not  dash  from  your  lips  the  drink 
that  maddens  and  destroys  and  take  as  your  beverage 
the  beautiful  gift  our  Father  in  Heaven  has  provided 
for  His  children  ?"  ' 

The  apostrophe  was  seldom  repeated  verbatim. 
The  speaker  was  always  changing  it,  sometimes  for 
the  better,  often  for  the  worse;  but  it  never  failed  to 
call  forth  a  hearty  response. 

With  the  Godspeed  of  Faneuil  Hall  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gough  proceeded  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  opened 
the  year  1845  under  the  shadow  of  another  historic 
edifice — Independence  Hall,  in  which  the  first  Conti- 
nental Congress  met  and  the  immortal  Declaration 
was  signed. 

The  reformer  had  spoken  before  in  the  Quaker 
City,  but  under  poor  management  and  to  small  num- 
bers. He  came  now  to  fill  an  engagement  with  the 
Pennsylvania  State  Temperance  Society,  which  gave 
him  prestige.  Besides,  his  reputation  was  now  con- 
tinental. His  success  was  phenomenal.  After  speak- 
ing in  several  churches  on  successive  evenings, 
he  was  driven  at  last  to  the  immense  Chinese 
Museum,  and  this  also  was  twice  crowded  to  suffoca- 
tion. 

At  this  period  Mr.  Gough  spoke  his  biography, 
with  numerous  asides,  both  humorous  and  pathetic. 
He  then  sang  a  song  or  two  (which  will  surprise  those 
who  heard  him  only  in  later  years),  and  solicited  sig- 


1  In  his  book  entitled  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  359,  360, 
Mr.  Gough  gives  the  apostrophe,  and  defends  himself  against  the 
charge  of  plagiarizing  it  from  Paul  Demon. 


108  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

natures  to  the  pledge — quite  after  the  fashion  of  an 
evangelist  nowadays,  exhorting  converts. 

In  appearance,  in  these  early  years,  he  was  pale  and 
thin — the  shadow  of  a  man,  and  looked  tall,  though  only 
5  feet  and  7  inches  in  stature.  His  hair  was  bushy, 
and  he  tossed  it  about  as  a  lion  does  his  mane.  His 
coat  was  close-buttoned  to  the  chin.  The  lithe  form 
was  always  in  motion,  and  needed  a  large  platform 
for  full  effect.  "The  restless,  eager  hands,  supple  as 
India-rubber,  were  perpetually  busy  flinging  the  hair 
forward,  in  one  character,  back  in  another,  or  stand- 
ing it  straight  up  in  a  third;  crushing  the  drink-fiend, 
pointing  to  the  angel  in  human  nature,  or  doubling 
up  the  long  coat  tails  in  the  most  grotesque  climaxes 
of  gesticulation,  when,  '  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump/ 
he  proceeded  to  bring  down  the  house.  Dickens  says 
of  one  of  his  humorous  characters  that  '  his  very  knees 
winked  ';  but  there  was  a  variety  and  astonishment  of 
expression  in  every  movement  of  Mr.  Gough  that  lit- 
erally beggars  description."1 

In  the  midst  of  what  in  another  might  have  seemed 
extravagance,  there  was  a  steady  self-command  which 
enabled  him  to  ride  the  storm  he  raised.  He  was  not 
like  Falstaff,  who  in  a  double  sense  made  a  butt  of 
himself,  first,  by  swallowing  so  much  sack,  and 
secondly,  by  conceit.  Good  sense  and  wisdom,  eleva- 
tion and  enthusiasm,  marked  both  wit  and  pathos. 
His  description  comprehended  everything — character, 
mode  of  dress,  peculiar  gestures,  different  humors, 
style  of  speaking  and  writing,  down  to  the  last  detail. 


1  Miss  Frances  E.  Willard's   description,   quoted  in    "  A  Knight 
That  Smote  the  Dragon,"  pp.  150,  151, 


ON    THE   PLATFORM.  109 

He  was  an  animated  photographic  apparatus,  talking 
and  acting  pictures.  His  transitions  of  mood  were 
lightning-like  in  their  rapidity.  He  amused  and  in- 
structed, fired  and  sobered,  by  his  coincidences,  com- 
parisons, combinations,  in  a  single  breath.  The  man 
was  a  galvanic  battery,  and  electrified  his  hearers. 

An  English  traveler,  then  in  Philadelphia,  was  at- 
tracted to  hear  Gough  while  these  meetings  were  in 
progress.  He  went — not  expecting  much,  for  he  had 
heard  the  great  orators  of  England.  We  quote  a  few 
words  from  his  account: 

"  It  was  the  most  awfully  interesting  biography  I  ever  lis- 
tened to.  ...  At  one  moment  he  convulsed  the  audience 
with  merriment,  then,  as  if  by  touch  of  an  enchanter's  wand,  he 
subdued  them  to  tears.  It  was  a  wonderful  display  of  his 
power  of  the  feelings  and  passions;  and  yet,  with  all,  there 
was  so  much  of  humility,  that  one  knew  not  which  most  to  ad- 
mire— the  man  or  his  matter.  Mr.  Gough  is  an  admirable 
mimic,  and  tells  a  story  with  more  point  than,  Charles  Mat- 
thews excepted,  any  other  story-teller  I  ever  listened  to.  ... 
Taken  altogether,  it  may  be  safely  said  that  he  is  one  of  those 
men  whom  the  Almighty  calls  out,  at  certain  periods,  to  wage 
His  battles  and  effect  great  moral  reforms."  ' 

It  was  in  1845,  that  the  first  "Autobiography"  ap- 
peared. Gough  dictated  it  to  a  friend,  a  short-hand 
writer,  as  he  paced  the  room — talked  and  walked  it  off. 
The  booklet  (it  has  less  than  150  pages)  ran  through 
more  than  thirty  editions.  'Tis  admirably  done,  and 
cantains  pathos  and  humor  enough  to  make  and  pre- 
serve the  reputation  of  the  author,  had  he  done  noth- 
ing more. 


1  First  "  Autobiography,"  Boston  1855,  p.  149,  sq.  Appendix. 


II. 

THE    "  DOCTORED  "    SODA-WATER. 

THOSE  who  have  lived  for  others,  and  striven  to 
make  the  world  better,  have  usually  lived  as  martyrs. 
Mr.  Gough  appeared  to  be  an  exception  to  the  rule. 
His  popularity  was  so  great  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end,  the  crowds  he  drew  were  so  enormous  that 
many  who  saw  him  only  on  the  stage  of  action 
thought  his  career  was  a  /<?/<?,  a  generation  long. 
Those  who  looked  behind  the  scenes  knew  better. 
His  enemies  were  among  the  bitterest  of  their  ilk, 
and  from  the  outset,  detractors  made  him  a  target  to 
practise  at 

Mr.  Gough  was  of  an  oversensitive  disposition. 
Enmity  and  detraction  pierced  his  heart  as  though 
they  had  been  arrows.  He  winced,  and  showed  that 
he  was  hit — a  fact  well  known  in  the  camp  of  his  foes, 
and  of  which  advantage  was  taken  to  continue  or 
inflame  the  torture.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  the 
reformer  that,  though  he  winced,  he  did  not  swerve. 
He  maintained  the  manner  of  life  which  brought  him 
into  inevitable  collision  with  wicked  men  by  disturb- 
ing their  plans,  or  with  selfish  co-laborers  by  out- 
dazzling  their  dimness. 

His  vulnerable  spot  was  his  former  life — the  heel 
of  Achilles,  whither  the  arrows  flew.  Human  nature 


THE    "DOCTORED        SODA-WATER.  Ill 

is  various,  and  some  varieties  do  seem  superfluous  ! 
Certain  critics  of  Gough  really  disbelieved  in  the 
genuineness  of  his  reformation,  of  any  such  reforma- 
tion, and  said  that  he  had  only  added  hypocrisy  to 
his  original  vice.  Others  pretended  to  disbelieve. 
Lies  swarmed  about  his  pathway,  most  of  them  accu- 
sations of  drinking  on  the  sly.  A  liquor-seller  at 
Newburyport,  for  instance,  asserted  that  Mr.  Gough 
had  stopped  to  drink  in  his  restaurant  on  the  way 
from  one  of  his  temperance  lectures  to  the  train.  He 
was  forced  by  a  threat  of  legal  proceedings  to  retract 
this  lie,  and  apologize  for  it.  But  where  one  liar  was 
caught,  a  dozen  escaped,  and  lied  on. 

Worse  yet;  attempts  were  made  to  entrap  him  into 
inconsistent  and  vicious  conduct,  and  thus  destroy 
his  reputation.  One  of  these  had  well-nigh  suc- 
ceeded. 

Mr.  Gough  went  to  New  York  City  in  the  autumn 
of  1845  ^0  map  down  his  route  and  arrange  his  dates 
for  the  approaching  winter.  He  arrived  at  6: 30 
o'clock;  went  to  a  hotel;  supped;  left  word  at  the 
office  that  he  might  not  return  that  night,  as  he  was 
going  to  Brooklyn  to  visit  friends;  strolled  out  upon 
Broadway;  entered  a  store  or  two,  and  made  trifling 
purchases;  resumed  his  stroll;  and  was  accosted  by  a 
stranger. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Gough." 

It  was  now  near  eight  o'clock.  Mr.  Gough  did  not 
recognize  the  speaker,  and  said  so. 

"  Well,  I  used  to  know  you  years  ago,  when  you 
worked  in  this  city,"  said  he.  "  My  name  is  Williams 
—Jonathan  Williams." 

The   time   referred   to  was  several  years  back;  the 


112  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

man  appeared  honest.  Gough  was  unsuspicious — 
indeed  there  seemed  no  occasion  for  suspicion.  The 
lecturer  made  a  cordial  response. 

"You  have  got  into  a  new  business  since  we  worked 
together,"  continued  "  Williams,"  as  he  walked  on 
beside  the  former  bookbinder. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Gough;  "  I'm  giving  my  time  to 
temperance." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  "  Williams,"  "  you  are  so  good 
and  proud  now  that  you'd  not  drink  a  glass  of  soda 
with  an  old  shopmate." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  would,"  was  the  hearty  answer. 

They  were  then  opposite  a  drug-store,  and  both 
stepped  in.  There  was  a  crowd  around  the  fountain. 

"  Oh,"  said  "  Williams,"  "  we  can't  get  served  here. 
I  know  a  better  place." 

They  went  out,  sauntered  down  Chambers  street 
to  Chatham,  and  entered  another  store.  This  time 
they  got  their  soda-water;  "  Williams,"  handing 
Gough  a  glass,  with  his  hand  over  the  top  of  it,  which 
the  latter  thought  rude,  though  he  suspected  nothing 
at  the  moment.  They  left  together  and  soon  parted. 
In  a  short  while  Gough,  although  out  of  doors,  became 
dazed,  lost  his  way,  and  was  abducted  and  secreted 
for  nearly  a  week,  being  found  in  a  disreputable 
house  in  Walker  street,  in  a  stupor. 

Friends  bore  him  away  to  Brooklyn,  his  objective 
point  when  he  quitted  the  hotel  on  the  evening  of 
September  5th.  Here,  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hurlbut,  he  was  tenderly  nursed.  Mrs.  Gough 
was  sent  for.  The  lost  was  found,  and  in  good  hands 
again. 

Of  course,  this  dramatic  episode  caused  wide-spread 


THE  "DOCTORED     SODA-WATER.  113 

comment.  Gough's  enemies  were  jubilant.  A  search- 
ing inquisition  was  made,  however,  by  a  committee 
of  the  Mount  Vernon  Church,  specially  appointed  for 
the  purpose ;  whose  report  completely  exonerated 
Mr.  Gough.  The  physician  who  treated  him  in 
Brooklyn  testified  that  he  found  abundant  evidence 
of  drugging.  The  public  press  at  the  time  generally 
denounced  the  abduction.  Gough  was  robbed  in 
that  den — but  not  of  his  good  name. 

Probably,  "Williams"  followed  his  victim  to  New 
York,  as  he  disappeared  and  was  never  detected. 
He  "doctored"  the  soda-water  when  he  passed  it 
with  his  hand  over  the  rim.  Confederates  watched  the 
drugged  man  after  the  parting.  When  they  saw  him 
bewildered  they  plied  him  with  liquor,  and  guided 
him  to  the  place  where  he  was  finally  discovered. 

The  case  is  painful.  Circumstances  of  mystery 
still  surround  it.  We  have  not  felt  called  upon  to  go 
at  length  into  it,  because  Mr.  Gough  has  himself 
done  so  in  documents  easily  accessible.1  What  was 
called-^his  second  "fall"  gave  his  opponents  an 
ad  vantage"  ot  Which  they  then  and  lor  ^ears  after- 
ward availed  themselves.  But  this  was  the  last  cloud 
on  his  name.  His  life  for  forty  years,  pure,  noble, 
lived  out  in  the  sun,  must  be  permitted  to  interpret 
this  dark  passage. 

It  should  be  added  that  Mr.  Gough  confessed  to 
imprudence  on  this  occasion,  but  never  to  any  guilt. 
The  wife  stood  by  her  husband  and  blamed  herself, 
wife-like,  for  permitting  him  for  once  to  go  alone  to 
New  York. 


111  Autobiography,"  pp.  195-209. 
8 


114  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

But  even  had  this  been  a  genuine  "fall,"  surprise 
would  be  out  of  place.  Temperance  may  be  in  the 
purpose  when  intemperance  is  in  the  conduct.  Pathol- 
ogy and  moral  science  show  that  the  worst  action  of 
inebriety  is  on  the  will.  It  shatters  the  nerves,  but  it 
paralyzes  the  will.  Hence,  years  are  often  needed 
for  recovery — years  marked  by  occasional  lapses. 
The  question  with  regard  to  a  reformed  man  ought 
not  to  be — 

"  How  many  times  has  he  fallen  ? " 

It  should  be — 

"  How  long  has  he  stood  ? " 

He  who  comes  out  of  drunkenness  and  stands  forty 
years,  is  a  moral  hero. 

Through  the  rest  of  September  and  the  whole  of 
October  and  November,  Mr.  Gough  lay  at  the  point 
of  death.  It  was  not  until  the  beginning  of  Decem- 
ber that  he  was  sufficiently  strong  to  mount  the  plat- 
form. 

Thus  ended  the  year  1845. 


III. 


"  FOOTPRINTS    ON    THE    SANDS   OF    TIME. 

ANOTHER  severe  trial  awaited  Mr.  Gough.  As  time 
passed  he  found  himself  more  and  more  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  Washingtonianism.  He  was  sincerely 
attached  to  that  movement,  and  had  occasion  to  be,  for 
it  had  rescued  him.  Its  leaders  were  his  close  friends. 
He  was  its  most  eloquent  exponent.  But  experience 
and  observation  taught  him  the  insufficiency  of  its 
methods.  He  both  felt  and  saw  that  piety  alone 
clenched  the  nails  which  moral  suasion  drove  in.  The 
pledge  started  the  inebriate  toward  manhood.  Man- 
hood itself,  however,  involved  not  one  virtue,  but 
many.  The  ultimate  motive  was  the  fear  and  love  of 
God.  This  anchored  character.  Therefore,  he  intro- 
duced into  his  addresses  religious  appeals,  and  grad- 
ually animated  the  temperance  reformation  with  a 
new  spirit. 

Keen  ears  and  eyes  heard  everything  he  said,  and 
watched  everything  he  did.  This  departure  was  soon 
noted.  His  old  associates  stood  aloof  and  denounced 
him.  They  believed  in  moral  suasion,  and  in  nothing 
else.  They  believed  the  mere  wish  to  break-off  intem- 
perate habits  signified  in  a  pledge  would  save  the 
drunkard.  Men  hardly  steadied  into  sobriety  as- 
sumed to  be  teachers  instead  of  sitting  as  learners. 


Il6  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Such  men  led  the  crusade.  Success  was  measured  by 
the  number  of  names  signed  to  the  pledge,  rather 
than  by  the  renovated  lives  that  followed  the  signing. 
There  was  jealousy  of  the  Church  as  a  rival  institu- 
tion. The  Washingtonians,  as  a  rule,  refused  to  open 
their  meetings  with  prayer,  disowned  the  Bible, 
scouted  the  idea  of  piety,  and  were,  many  of  them, 
avowed  freethinkers.  Naturally,  too,  for  they  were 
converts  of  the  tavern.  A  bar-room  is  a  poor  divinity 
hall. 

In  reviewing  these  facts  at  a  later  day,  Mr.  Gough 
said  : 

"  Men  became  leading  reformers  who  were  not  qualified  by 
experience,  or  training,  or  education,  to  lead,  and  out  of  them 
a  class  sprung  up  who  became  dictatorial,  and  sometimes  in- 
solent. Irreligious  men  insulted  in  some  instances  ministers  of 
religion  who  had  been  hard  workers  for  temperance,  reformed 
drunkards  sneered  at  those  who  had  never  been  intemperate, 
as  if  former  degradation  was  the  only  qualification  for  leader- 
ship. .  .  .  Any  remonstrance  was  construed  at  once  into 
opposition  to  the  cause  itself,  rather  than  to  their  methods. 
.  .  .  The  temperance  cause  is  not  strictly  a  religious  enter- 
prise, it  is  a  secular  movement;  but  the  religious  element  in 
it  is  the  measure  of  its  success,  and  the  absence  of  that  element 
is  its  decay."  l 

In  the  same  connection  he  remarks  : 

"  I  heard  the  Hon.  Thomas  Marshall,  of  Kentucky,  make  a 
ten-minute  speech  in  the  Broadway  Tabernacle  at  the  close  of 
an  address  of  mine,  in  which  he  said  :  '  Were  this  great  globe 
one  chrysolite,  and  I  were  offered  the  possession  of  it  if  I 
would  drink  'one  glass  of  brandy,  I  would  refuse  with  scorn  ; 
and  I  want  no  religion,  I  want  the  temperance  pledge.'  With 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  497,  498,  and  501. 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME.  117 

that  wonderful  voice  of  his  he  thundered  out  '  We  want  no 
religion  in  this  movement.  Let  it  be  purely  secular,  and  keep 
religion  where  it  belongs.'  Poor  Tom  Marshall,  with  all  his 
self-confidence,  fell,  and  died  at  Poughkeepsie  in  clothes  given 
him  by  Christian  charity." ' 

Apropos,  the  writer  heard  this  same  gifted  man 
lecture  on  temperance  one  evening  in  New  Haven, 
Conn.,  when  he  was  so  drunk  he  could  not  stand. 
He  half  sat  to  steady  himself  upon  a  table  which 
served  for  a  desk,  swinging  one  leg  as  he  hiccoughed 
out  his  sentences,  brilliant  as  the  rainbow.  Presently, 
he  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  over  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form to  the  floor  four  feet  below,  with  the  table  piled 
on  top  of  him.  The  fall  sobered  Marshall.  He  reas- 
cended  the  platform  imperturbable  and  erect  as  a 
grenadier  and  continued  his  lecture  !  The  object- 
lesson  was  more  effective  than  the  address.  Personal 
piety  would  have  saved  the  eloquent  Kentuckian. 

The  Washingtonians  accused  Gough  of  a  further 
offense.  He  advocated  a  recourse  to  law — not  then 
nor  for  long  years  afterwards,  with  any  immediate 
purpose  to  apply  it,  but  as  a  right  within  the  legiti- 
mate scope  of  the  State.  He  would  occasionally 
utter  sentences  like  these: 

"  Our  work  has  been  very  much  like  a  game  of  ten-pins. 
We  have  been  very  busy  in  picking  up  the  pins,  but  directly 
we  set  them  up  the  liquor-seller  has  begun  rolling  the  ball  to 
knock  them  down  again.  We  have  picked  up  the  pins  and 
said,  '  It  is  a  good  work  to  set  them  up ' ;  but  the  ball  came 
rolling  in  again,  and  knocked  them  down  in  every  direction. 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  497,  498,  and  501. 


Il8  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

We  have  buried  the  dead  wood,  and  new  pins  have  been 
produced,  and  the  game  has  gone  on.  But  the  cry  has  gone 
forth,  it  has  gathered  strength,  and  by-and-by  it  will  be  thun- 
dered in  the  ears  of  the  Legislature,  '  Stop  that  ball ! '  "' 

To  the  Moral  Suasionists  such  utterances  were 
gall  and  wormwood.  What  fools  men  are  —  how 
blind  when  they  have  an  opinion  to  maintain,  or  a 
prejudice  to  defend,  or  a  party  to  serve!  As  though 
any  weapon,  every  weapon  should  not  be  welcomed 
in  such  a  war  as  this  against  intemperance? 

Mr.  Gough's  popularity  was  now  a  source  of  dis- 
comfort to  the  antiquated  reformers,  who  refused  to 
go  on  and  up  to  higher  ground.  They  circulated 
stories  to  his  detriment.  One  whom  he  had  nursed 
through  delirium  tremens  wrote  a  scurrilous  pamphlet, 
entitled  "  Goughiana,"  moved  to  it  by  so-called  tem- 
perance people.  This  was  given  to  the  public  some- 
times at  the  doors  of  Washingtonian  halls.  The 
orator  was  twitted  with  being  a  temperance  man  for 
"  revenue  only,"  his  very  fees  being  grudged  him — 
although  they  were  small  enough  in  those  days, 
heaven  knows!  The  profits,  when  he  lectured,  were 
large.  They  went  into  the  treasury  of  the  cause.  In 
1846  his  personal  receipts  only  averaged  $20.52,  and 
he  always  paid  his  own  traveling  and  hotel  expenses.2 
To  the  lecturer  who  received  only  $3  or  $5,  this 
looked  extravagant.  One  Washingtonian  newspaper 
assumed  to  fix  the  maximum  rate  for  such  lectures 
for  all  time  to  come.  "  Anything  above  $5,"  said  this 
political  economist,  "  is  too  much,  and  only  tempts 


*"  Platform  Echoes,"  p.  618.     4  "  Autobiography,"  p.   247. 


"FOOTPRINTS    ON    THE   SANDS   OF    TIME.  "  119 

unprincipled  and  selfish  men  to  advocate  temperance 
for  the  sake  of  money."  ' 

Mr.  Gough  was  unnecessarily  sensitive  to  these 
shafts.  Criticisms  of  his  manner  (easily  caricatured) 
always  annoyed  him.  But  taunts  that  touched  char- 
acter, as  we  have  remarked  in  the  previous  chapter, 
hurt  him  beyond  most  men.  No  doubt,  his  remem- 
brance of  the  past,  of  what  he  had  been  and  done, 
aggravated  this  weakness.  He  was  lacking  in  self- 
esteem,  and  had  no  vanity.  Nevertheless,  too  often 
for  comfort,  he  wore  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve  for 
daws  to  peck  at. 

With  the  bitter  came  the  sweet,  mingled  as  usual 
in  life's  mysterious  cup.  His  fame  went  on  rising. 
His  lectures  were  ovations.  Friends,  good  and  true, 
rallied  to  his  side.  He  was  a  king  of  hearts  as  well 
as  of  the  platform.  Tens  of  thousands  already  dated 
the  commencement  of  a  new  life  from  one  or  another 
of  his  addresses. 

In  January,  1846,  Mr.  Gough  was  invited  to  Vir- 
ginia. Richmond,  Petersburg,  Portsmouth,  and  Nor- 
folk were  his  centers  of  work,  though  other  towns 
were  touched.  In  the  latter  town  he  saw  what  he 
had  never  seen  before — a  slave  sold  at  auction,  and 
thus  describes  the  occurrence: 

"  Passing  through  the  market,  I  saw  a  crowd  surrounding  a 
middle-aged  colored  woman  who  stood  on  a  barrel,  the  auc- 
tioneer below  her.  I  stopped  to  hear  :  '  Two  hundred  and  thirty 
dollars — two — thirty,  thirty,  thirty,  going  ;  two — thirty,  going, 
going gone!'  Yes!  there  stood  a  woman,  one  of  God's 


1  Lyman  Abbott,  in  his  Introduction  to  "  Platform    Echoes," 
p.  41. 


120  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

creatures,  a  wife  and  mother,  with  arms  folded  and  the  tears 
rolling  silently  down  her  cheeks,  as  she  quietly  and  meekly 
turned  at  the  bidding  of  the  men  who  surrounded  her,  to  show 
her  arms,  her  shape,  her  breast,  her  teeth, — till  the  sale  was 
accomplished,  and  the  poor  creature  stepped  down  from  her 
position  before  the  crowd, — transferred  from  one  owner  to 
another,  body,  mind,  and  soul  for  two  hundred  and  thirty 
dollars.  I  turned  and  said  to  a  friend  : '  That's  the  most  damna- 
ble sight  ever  seen  in  a  Christian  country.'  I  was  told  I  must 
not  say  that,  and  was  hastened  away."  ! 

Later  in  this  same  summer  of  1846,  Mr.  Gough  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  give  ten  lectures  in  Lynchburg, 
Va.,  signed  by  the  Mayor  and  one  hundred  other  citi- 
zens. In  the  evening  after  the  first  address,  he  was 
given  a  mock  serenade  in  front  of  the  hotel  at  eleven 
o'clock  at  night.  Some  of  the  party  were  arrested 
for  disturbing  the  peace.  Upon  hearing  in  the  morn- 
ing that  four  of  them  were  to  be  tried  at  the  court- 
house, he  started  for  that  building;  was  intercepted 
by  a  mob;  came  near  being  torn  in  pieces  as  an 
Abolitionist;  was  forbidden  to  speak  again  in  Lynch- 
burg; avowed  his  purpose  to  lecture  on  temperance 
that  very  night;  abashed  the  crowd  by  his  firm 
attitude,  and  managed  to  retreat  from  the  scene 
unhurt. 

Night  came.  The  church  was  packed.  Every  one 
expected  an  outbreak — but  as  Disraeli  used  to  say, 
"  'Tis  the  unexpected  that  happens."  The  orator  en- 
tered through  a  window.  He  seated  himself.  Prayer 
was  offered.  The  chairman,  a  well-known  clergyman 
of  the  town,  introduced  him.  He  rose  and  came 


"  Autobiography,"  p.  213. 


"  FOOTPRINTS    ON    THE    SANDS    OF    TIME."  121 

forward  amid  suppressed  excitement.     Entirely  self- 
possessed,  he  said: 

"  I  wish  you  to  hear  me  patiently  before  you  decide  what 
to  do  with  me.  I  am  ready  to  leave  your  city  to-night  by  the 
12  o'clock  canal-boat,  or  I  will  stay  and  fulfill  my  engagement. 
I  was  invited  here  by  a  committee  of  one  hundred  of  your  citi- 
zens, headed  by  the  Mayor,  to  deliver  ten  lectures  on  temper- 
ance. On  Sunday  night,  I  asked  for  arguments  on  the  other 
side,  and  got  them — a  brass  horn,  a  tin-pan,  an  old  fiddle,  a 
triangle,  a  piece  of  sheet-iron,  and  one  man  apparently  hired 
to  swear  for  the  occasion,  who  did  his  work  faithfully.  These 
arguments  were  almost  as  good  as  I  expected.  I  have  been 
threatened  with  whipping,  with  being  run  into  the  river,  with 
vitriol  in  my  face,  and  I  have  been  called  an  Abolitionist.  Now, 
just  hear  me  while  I  say  that  there  is  no  gentleman  here  whose 
opinion  is  worth  having,  who  would  not  despise  me  heartily  if 
I  were  not  an  Abolitionist.  You  all  know  I  am,  and  you  knew 
it  when  you  sent  for  me.  But  you  engaged  me  to  speak  on 
temperance,  and  I  came  for  that  purpose.  I  have  not  spoken 
of  your  '  peculiar  institution '  in  public,  whatever  I  may  have 
thought  of  it.  You  have  introduced  the  subject,  not  I,  and  I 
should  receive  and  merit  your  contempt  if  I  swallowed  my 
principles,  and  told  a  lie  to  curry  your  favor.  " 

This  manly  preface  completely  won  the  audience, 
which  voted  overwhelmingly  that  he  should  stay. 
The  remaining  lectures  were  given,  and  did  much 
good,  hundreds  signing  the  pledge. 

While  in  Virginia,  Mr.  Gough  had  an  attack  of 
brain  fever,  the  result  of  incessant  work,  super- 
imposed upon  the  nervous  prostration  brought  on  the 
preceding  autumn  by  the  adventure  in  New  York. 
Before  leaving  the  State  he  addressed  several  large 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.  218. 


122  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

gatherings  of  the  colored  people.  In  one  of  their 
churches  in  Richmond  he  spoke  to  2,500  of  them. 
There  they  sat — so  black  that  one  could  not  have 
seen  them  had  they  closed  their  eyes  !  Turning  to  a 
clerical  friend,  Gough  asked: 

"  How  shall  I  talk  to  them  ? " 

"Just  as  you  would  to  white  folks,"  was  the 
answer. 

He  did,  and  found  them  like  any  other  audience, 
only  more  emotional. 

"  I  said  something  of  heaven,"  remarked  Mr. 
Gough,  "  and  a  tall  negro  rose  and  commenced  a 
song.  There  was  a  chorus: 

"  I'm  bound  for  de  land  of  Canaan, 

Come,  go  along  with  me  ; 
We'll  all  pass  over  Jordan 
And  sound  the  jubilee. 

"  Den  we  shall  see  Jesus — 

Come,  go  along  with  me  ; 
We're  all  gwine  home  together, 
And  will  sound  the  jubilee." 

"  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  many  verses  they  sang — it 
seemed  like  a  dozen,  and  I  had  quite  a  rest.  Just  as 
I  was  resuming  my  speech,  a  man  rose  near  the  pul- 
pit, and  said: 

"'  Bredren,  just  look  at  me.  Here  is  a  nigger  dat 
doesn't  own  hisself.  I  belong  to  Massa  Carr,  bless 
de  Lord  !  Yes,  bredren,  dis  poor  ole  body  belongs  to 
Massa  Carr;  but  my  soul  is  the  freeman  of  de  Lord 
Jesus  ! '  "  » 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  219. 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME.  123 

Gough  adds:  "  The  effect  was  magical,  and  the 
whole  andience  shouted:  'Amen!'  'Glory!'  '  Bless  de 
Lord! '  I  took  the  opportunity  to  say: 

" '  There  is  not  a  drunkard  in  the  city  can  say 
that!'"  ' 

Although  he  had  seen  slavery  in  its  mildest  aspect, 
the  Northerner  faced  homeward  hating  the  system 
more  than  ever. 

An  interesting  and  important  part  of  Mr.  Gough's 
work  in  these  days  was  the  talking  to  children.  This 
is  partly  an  art,  partly  a  gift.  There  is  danger  of 
talking  too  high  or  else  of  talking  too  low.  In  the 
one  case,  they  lose  interest;  in  the  other,  they  lose 
respect  for  the  speaker.  Mr.  Gough  was  never  hap- 
pier than  when  before  such  an  audience.  He  was  a 
great  boy  himself  and  understood  smaller  boys.  His 
graphic  mannerisms,  anecdotes,  mimicry,  always 
won  the  children,  who  were  among  his  most  enthusi- 
astic auditors.  He  organized  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  them  into  cold-water  armies  and  similar  tem- 
perance bodies. 

In  a  characteristic  passage  he  remarks: 

"  I  have  been  often  touched  by  the  sorrows  of  the  drunkard's 
child.  Pitiful  little  things  they  are  sometimes.  I  was  asked 
by  a  gentleman  at  whose  house  I  was  dining  in  Washington,  in 
the  'forties,  What  was  the  most  pitiful  sight  I  ever  saw  ? 
After  a  little  thought,  I  said:  'An  old  child;  a  child  with 
wrinkles  in  its  face,  that  is  not  yet  in  its  teens;  a  child  made 
old  by  hard  usage  ;  whose  brow  is  furrowed  by  the  plowshare 
of  sorrow  ; — that  is  one  of  the  most  pitiful  sights  on  earth."  "  2 

Mr.  Gough's  record  for  the  five  years  commencing 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  219.     *  "  Autobiography,"  p.  226. 


124  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

with  1847  and  ending  with  1852,  was  one  of  continu- 
ous lecturing  through  a  dozen  States,  relieved  only 
by  a  few  weeks'  respite  in  each  summer.  He  was 
the  man  with  a  single  theme.  He  could  say  of  it, 
however,  as  the  Rev.  John  Pierpont  did,  when  ac- 
cused on  account  of  his  earnestness  for  temperance 
of  being  a  man  of  one  idea, — "  True,  but  its  a  whop- 
ping big  one  !  "  Moreover,  he  varied  it  so  entertain- 
ingly, applied  it  so  practically,  connected  it  with  cur- 
rent affairs  so  powerfully,  and  so  vitalized  it  with  his 
own  unique  personality,  that  the  people,  like  Oliver 
Twist,  in  Dickens's  story,  never  stopped  clamoring 
for  "  more." 

To  follow  Mr.  Gough  in  his  journeyings  would  be 
interesting,  but  endless  as  walking  in  the  footsteps 
of  Sue's  "Wandering  Jew."  Out  of  his  budget  of 
experiences  we  select  a  few,  as  samples  of  the  rest. 

On  Thursday  night,  October  21,  1847,  temperance 
was  mobbed  in  Faneuil  Hall.  Liquor  had  been  freely 
distributed  during  the  day  to  "  lewd  fellows  of  the 
baser  sort,"  two  hundred  of  whom  were  gathered  in 
a  corner  of  the  old  hall,  intent  upon  mischief.  The 
floor  of  Faneuil  Hall  is  not  seated — the  people  stand. 
Hence,  it  will  hold  twice  as  many  people  as  could 
otherwise  get  in  ;  and  in  a  time  of  excitement,  the 
crowd  sways  to  and  fro  like  a  field  of  grain  in  a 
wind.  , 

This  meeting  was  held  by  the  Boston  Temperance 
Society,  whose  president,  Deacon  Moses  Grant,  was 
in  the  chair.  After  a  prayer,  he  introduced  Mr. 
Gough.  Instantly  bedlam  broke  loose.  Cheers  and 
counter-cheers  for  Deacon  Grant  and  for  some  local 
liquor-dealers,  for  Gough,  and  for  Tom,  Dick,  and 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME."        125 

Harry,  were  given  with  a  will.  Catcalls,  singing, 
and,  in  a  few  minutes  dancing  in  a  ring  formed  yon- 
der in  rummy  corner — made  the  "  confusion  worse 
confounded." 

In  this  din  speaking  was  impossible.  A  shout 
could  not  be  heard  across  the  platform.  Mr.  Gough 
made  pantomimic  appeals — in  vain.  Whiskey  had 
come  in  for  the  purpose  of  mobbing  temperance  out. 

Heated  with  liquor  and  instigated  by  their  leaders, 
the  rowdies  passed  from  noise  to  violence.  A  rush 
was  made  for  the  platform,  amid  cries  of  "  Throw 
Grant  and  Gough  out  of  the  window! "  Members  of 
the  society  on  the  platform  met  the  assault  resolutely, 
and  pitched  the  assailants  back  to  the  floor  as  they 
climbed  up.  For  a  while  a.  regular  battle  raged,  with 
repeated  assaults  and  repulses,  as  at  Bunker  Hill  in 
'76 — Gough  was  reminded  of  the  Diorama  whose 
crank  he  used  to  turn.  Then  the  gas  was  cut  off. 
Hostilities  were  suspended,  but  the  war  of  shouts  and 
jeers  and  oaths  went  on.  After  an  hour  of  chaos,  a 
large  posse  of  police  came  on  the  scene.  Compara- 
tive order  was  restored;  the  gas  was  turned  on;  the 
officers  retook  their  places,  and  Mr.  Gough  spoke  to 
an  accompaniment  of  outcries  and  interruptions  which 
would  have  embarrassed  most  orators,  but  which  he 
met,  parried,  and  turned  against  the  mob  with  inde- 
scribable sang  froid. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  he  told  his  famous 
stuttering  story.  One  loafer,  by  his  persistent  inter- 
jections and  profanity  made  himself  a  nuisance — all 
the  more  so,  because  a  knot  of  rum-sellers  under  the 
gallery  enjoyed  the  fun  hugely  and  encouraged  the 
fellow  by  laughing  loudly  at  every  impudent  remark. 


126  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Advancing  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and  address- 
ing him  personally,  Gough  said  : 

"  My  friend,  I  pity  you  ;  for  you  are  doing  the  dirty 
work  of  men  who  dare  not  do  it  themselves.  You  are 
serving  your  masters  and  employers,  who  stand  here 
in  this  audience  encouraging  you  in  doing  what  you 
would  never  dream  of  were  you  not  set  on  by  others. 
You  look  like  a  sensible  man,  and  I  should  like  to  tell 
you  a  story  of  which  you  remind  me." 

The  man  broke  in  with,  "  Let's  have  the  story." 

"  Well,  a  certain  merchant  who  was  a  sad  stam- 
merer, had  one  joke  which  he  related  to  every  one  who 
would  listen  to  him.  His  clerks  had  repeatedly  heard 
it  and  were  familiar  with  it.  One  day,  a  stranger 
came  into  the  store.  The  merchant  accosted  him 
with  : 

" '  Can  you  tell  me  wh-why  it  was  th-h-at  B-B-B- 
why  it  wa-was  th-that  B-B-  wh-wh-why  it  was  that 
B-B ' 

"  Seeing  his  employer's  difficulty,  one  of  the  clerks 
said,  '  He  wants  to  know  if  you  can  tell  him  why 
Balaam's  ass  spoke.' 

" '  Yes,'  replied  the  stranger,  '  I  guess  I  can.  I 
reckon  Balaam  was  a  stuttering  man,  and  got  his  ass 
to  do  his  talking  for  him! '  ' 

The  man  laughed  loudly  with  the  rest,  and  soon 
left  the  hall. 

This  was  the  last  time  temperance  was  mobbed  in 
Faneuil  Hall;  which,  however,  was  the  cradle  of 
mobs,  as  well  as  of  liberty,  when  the  Abolitionists 
occupied  it. 

Mr.  Gough's  nervous  temperament  subjected  him 
to  stage  fright,  of  which  he  was  the  lifelong  victim. 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME."         127 

Fortunately,  it  always  preceded  and  never  accom- 
panied his  efforts.  When  he  was  announced  to  give 
his  one  hundred  and  sixty-first  lecture  in  Boston,  he 
had  an  attack  of  this  kind  which  seriously  frightened 
good  Deacon  Grant.  Gough  shook  with  apprehen- 
sion all  day — "  he  could  not  speak — would  surely 
break  down — had  nothing  to  say — was  talked  out  too 
dry  even  for  a  temperance  man." 

At  night  he  baulked  worse  than  ever — insisted  that 
speaking  was  an  impossibility.  He  told  the  Deacon 
flatly  that  he  would  not  go  to  the  meeting.  After 
much  persuasion  he  did  go,  and  was  introduced.  He 
commenced  thus  : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen  :  I  have  nothing  to  say.  It  is  not 
my  fault  that  I  am  here  to  night.  I  almost  wish  I  could  feel  as 
a  gentleman  in  New  York  told  the  people  he  did  when  he 
addressed  them — '  I  am  never  afraid  of  an  audience,'  said  he, 
'  I  imagine  the  people  are  so  many  cabbage  heads.'  I  wish  I 
could  feel  so 

"  But  no,  I  do  not  wish  that.  When  I  look  into  your  faces, 
an  assemblage  of  rational  and  immortal  beings,  and  remember 
how  drink  has  debased  and  dragged  down  the  loftiest  and 
noblest  minds,  I  cannot  feel  so." 

Having  gotten  an  initial  thought,  he  was  off,  and 
spoke  gloriously  for  an  hour  and  a  half — a  human 
cyclone,  with  tornado  sauce. 

When  he  sat  down,  Deacon  Grant  said  rather 
sharply  : 

"  Don't  you  ever  frighten  me  so  again  !  "  ' 

In  October,  1848,  Mr.  Gough's  father  arrived  in 
America,  his  son  having  sent  for  him.  For  years  the 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  235,236. 


128  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

two  had  lost  sight  and  knowledge  of  one  another. 
A  copy  of  his  son's  "Autobiography,"  had  fallen  into 
the  father's  hands.  In  this  way  a  correspondence 
was  reopened,  and  now  they  were  together — a  meet- 
ing both  sad  and  joyful.  The  pale,  martyr  face  of  the 
wife  and  mother  looked  down  upon  the  two,  and 
made  a  pathetic  third.  And  other  ghosts  of  memory 
and  change  revisited  "  the  glimpses  of  the  moon." 
Henceforth  until  his  death,  in  1871,  at  the  age  of  94, 
the  elder  Gough  was  supported  by  the  younger. 

John  and  Mary  removed  from  Roxbury  to  Boston 
in  1847.  In  1848  they  wearied  of  the  city,  purchased 
lands  in  Boylston,  Mary's  old  home,  and  dear  to  John 
as  the  place  where  they  met ;  and  here  at  "  Hillside," 
five  miles  from  Worcester,  they  resided  ever  after 
when  at  home. 

'Tis  a  quiet,  restful  place.  The  surrounding 
country  is  diversified.  The  house,  a  two-storied, 
roomy  building,  surmounted  by  a  cupola,  stands  at 
the  head  o  a  long  approach,  after  the  English 
fashion.  Here,  beyond  the  easy  reach  of  men,  but 
accessible  to  those  who  wished  to  find  them,  the 
Goughs  browsed  at  delightful  intervals  in  their  busy 
life ;  and  while  Mary  turned  farmer,  John  went  to 
grass,  like  Nebuchadnezzar,  or  read  yonder  in  the 
cosy  library,  whose  shelves  he  soon  peopled  with  a 
choice  selection  of  3,000  books.  As  an  old  book- 
binder, Mr.  Gough  was  specially  fond  of  fine  bind- 
ings. Many  of  his  books  he  bound  himself  as  a 
pastime.  His  tastes  led  him  in  study  to  history,  biog- 
raphy, essays,  and  art.  In  these  departments,  there- 
fore, his  library  was  exceptionally  rich.  The  duties 
which  called  this  couple  away  from  "Hillside  '  to 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME.          129 

endure  the  discomforts  of  travel,  the  bare  rooms  of 
hotels,  and  the  fatigue  of  life  on  the  platform, 
had  need  to  take  sharp  hold  upon  the  conscience 
and  the  heart,  else  had  they  not  budged  from  their 
bucolics. 

Mr.  Gough's  habit  at  this  period  was  to  give,  not  a 
single  lecture  in  a  place,  as  in  Lyceum  days,  but  con- 
tinuous courses  of  lectures  ;  for  instance,  five  at 
Rochester,  eighteen  at  Buffalo,  ten  at  Detroit.  The 
number  of  lectures  in  any  course  was  a  matter  of 
agreement.  The  average  fee  was  less  than  $25  a  lec- 
ture through  the  whole  of  the  lecturer's  first  temper- 
ance decade. 

In  the  fall  of  1850  the  Goughs  spent  some  time  in 
Canada,  courses  of  twelve  lectures  being  given  in 
Montreal,  eight  in  Quebec,  six  in  Kingston,  ten  in 
Toronto,  and  seven  in  Hamilton.  At  several  of 
these  towns  there  were  English  garrisons.  These 
Mr.  Gough  was  invited  to  address.  His  father's  long 
and  honorable  connection  with  the  army  drew  his 
heart  out  toward  these  men,  many  of  whom  signed 
the  pledge  in  response  to  his  appeals — and  kept  it, 
too,  as  he  learned  long  years  afterwards.  One  day,  in 
Boston,  Deacon  Grant  asked  Gough  to  call  upon  two 
young  ladies  who  desired  to  see  him — but  let  him  tell 
about  it : 

"  I  went  to  the  house,  was  shown  into  a  room,  and  received 
by  a  young  lady  who  motioned  me  to  a  seat.  As  I  sat  there 
for  a  few  moments  waiting  for  her  to  speak  to  me,  I  gave  a 
glance  around  the  room.  There  were  evidences  of  better  days 
'  lang  syne,'  though  I  shivered,  for  there  was  no  fire  in  the 
grate,  and  the  weather  was  cold.  The  young  lady  spoke  : 

"  '  Mr.  Gough,  my  sister  intended  to  meet  you  with  me,  but 

9 


130  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

she  has  sprained  her  ankle  and  is  unable  to  see  you.  My 
mother  has  been  confined  to  her  room  for  many  weeks,  and  to 
her  bed  for  some  days.  Oh,  sir,  it  is  hard  for  a  daughter  to 
speak  of  a  father's  intemperance;  but  what  can  I  do  ?  I  have 
sent  for  you  as  a  last  resort.  My  father  is  good  and  kind  when 
free  from  drink  ;  but  when  under  its  influence  is  cruel — he 
actually  robs  us  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life — and  I 
would  not  ask  you  to  sit  in  a  cold  room,  had  we  materials  for  a 
fire.' 

"  I  involuntarily  glanced  at  the  piano.  She  noticed  it,  and 
said  quickly : 

"  '  You  may  think  that  pride  and  poverty  go  together  ;  and 
they  do.  You  wonder  why  I  do  not  sell  my  piano.  I  cannot 
sell  it.  My  father  bought  it  for  me  on  my  birthday  years  ago. 
It  is  like  an  old  friend.  I  learned  to  play  on  it.  Mother  loves 
to  hear  the  tunes  that  remind  us  of  days  gone  by — I  fear  for 
ever.  My  father  has  asked  me  to  sell  it  ;  and  suppose  I  did  ? 
It  would  but  procure  him  the  means  of  intoxication  for  a  time, 
and  we  should  be  little  better  off.' 

"  I  left  them.  Deacon  Grant  sent  them  provisions  and  fuel. 
In  a  day  or  two  I  called  again.  The  father  was  there.  After 
a  short  conversation,  he  said,  to  my  surprise  : 

"  '  Mr.  Gough.  have  you  a  pledge  with  you  ?  ' 

" '  I  have.' 

"  '  I  will  sign  it.' 

"  I  immediately  produced  it ;  he  at  once  wrote  his  name,  and 
stood  up,  free  !  I  watched  the  young  girl,  when  he  said  '  I  will 
sign.'  She  clasped  her  hands,  and  stood  with  eager  eyes  and 
lips  apart,  watching  the  pen.  She  seemed  breathlessly  anxious 
till  the  name  was  recorded ; — then  she  sprang  to  him,  twined 
her  arms  as  well  as  she  could  around  his  neck  (she  was  a  little 
creature);  and  oh,  how  she  clung  to  his  breast.  Then,  unclasp- 
ing her  hands,  she  said  : 

"  '  Oh,  father,  I'm  so  proud  of  you.  Mr.  Gough,  he  has 
signed  it ;  and  he'll  never  break  it,  I  know  him  ;  he'll  never 
break  it.  No,  no,  my  father  will  live  a  sober  man.  Oh,  father ! 
Oh,  father!' 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME.  131 

"  The  tears  were  raining  down  her  cheeks,  as  he  passed  his 
hand  caressingly  over  her  face.  Then  she  said  : 

" '  Father,  you  spoke  of  selling  the  piano.  We  can  sell  it 
to-morrow,  and  what  it  brings  will  pay  what  we  owe,  and  we 
shall  have  something  to  start  with  again.  Sha'n't  we,  father  ?  ' 

"  Yes,  that  poor  heart  was  comforted.  Now  she  would  give 
up  her  piano — cheerfully.  Why  ?  Because  her  father  would 
live  a  sober  man."  l 

Early  in  1851  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gough  set  out  for  Cin- 
cinnati, Ohio.  It  was  in  the  early  days  of  railroads. 
These  annihilators  of  time  and  distance  were  as  yet 
infrequent.  The  stage-coach  and  the  steamboat, 
beyond  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  were  still  the  reliance 
of  passengers.  At  Cumberland,  Md.,  our  couple  had 
to  "  stage  it  "  to  Pittsburgh,  over  a  road  deep  with 
winter  mud  and  slush.  They  intended  to  take  the 
boat  at  Pittsburgh  down  the  Ohio  to  Cincinnati. 
Opportunities  for  work  unexpectedly  opened  in  Pitts- 
burgh, however,  and  detained  them  two  weeks  there 
and  in  Alleghany  City,  icross  the  river  ;  and  sixteen 
lectures  resulted  in  the  securing  of  between  four  and 
five  thousand  signatures  to  the  pledge. 

Thence  they  proceeded  to  Cincinnati,  where  they 
met  and  became  intimate  with  that  patriarch  of  tem- 
perance, Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  then  at  the  head  of 
Lane  Seminary. 

Mr.  Gough  spoke  to  the  usual  crowds.  "Several 
times,"  he  writes,  "  I  was  compelled  to  obtain  an  en- 
trance to  the  church  by  the  window.  Once  a  ladder 
was  placed  against  a  window  back  of  the  pulpit.  I 
hesitated  as  the  feat  of  climbing  seemed  dangerous. 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  263-265. 


132  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  said  :  '  I'll  go  first ;  follow  me.' 
Encouraged  by  his  success,  I  ventured.  It  was 
comical  to  see  the  doctor  drive  his  hat  more  firmly  on 
his  head  as  he  prepared  for  the  ascent  ;  but,  taking  a 
firm  hold,  up  he  went,  chuckling  to  himself  all  the 
way."  ' 

Wesley  Chapel,  the  largest  audience-room  in  the 
city,  was  overfilled  more  than  twenty  times!  "I 
spoke  also,"  says  the  lecturer,  "  to  firemen,  to  chil- 
dren, to  ladies,  and  visited  schools.  At  Wesley  Col- 
lege I  made  an  address,  and  was  asked  by  a  young 
lady  to  write  the  pledge  in  her  'album  '  ;  I  did  so  ; 
when  another  and  another  brought  albums — till  I  had 
written  in  one  hundred  and  forty-three  of  these 
books.  I  often  in  my  travels  see  one  of  these  albums 
with  the  writing  in  it:  and  it  recalls  very  pleasantly 
the  delightful  afternoon  I  spent  at  Wesley  College."  * 

Later  in  1851  Mr.  Gough  delivered  a  course  of  nine 
lectures  in  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia.  Here  he  addressed 
a  muster  of  the  famous  Forty-Second  Regiment  of 
Highlanders.  In  referring  to  it,  he  says  : 

"  In  passing  through  the  city  I  had  noticed  a  sign  hung  up 
in  front  of  a  'ow  clrinking-house  with  a  daub  of  a  picture,  rep- 
resenting a  half-intoxicated  soldier  in  the  Highland  costume,  a 
bottle  in  one  hand  and  a  pipe  in  the  other,  with  the  words 
'The  Jolly  Highland  Soldier,' in  red  letters  beneath.  In  the 
course  of  my  talk  to  the  soldiers,  I  told  them  what  I  had  seen, 
and  asked  them  if  the  publican  dared  to  exhibit  the  picture  of 
a  drunken  lawyer,  or  doctor,  or  minister,  or  even  a' jolly  High- 
land Officer  ?  No1  He  associated  the  Highland  soldier,  with 
drunkenness.  It  was  an  insult  to  them  and  to  the  'garb of  old 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.  271.     8    'Autobiography,"  p.  271. 


"  FOOTPRINTS    ON    THE    SANDS    OF    TIME."  133 

Gaul,'  of  which  they  were  so  proud.  The  next  day  the  sign 
disappeared !  A  deputation  of  the  men  had  waited  on  the 
proprietor  with  a  very  emphatic  request  that  the  offensive  sign 
should  be  taken  down."  ' 

In  the  course  of  an  address  at  Colburg,  Canada,  the 
orator  made  a  violent  gesture  and  t — r — r — r — r — rip 
went  his  coat  down  the  back  from  collar  to  skirt. 
Every  one  laughed  but  the  speaker.  He  did  not  see 
the  fun — at  the  moment.  He  could  not  speak  without 
gesture.  Now  he  did  not  dare  to  move  his  arms,  for 
then  the  garment  fell  forward  most  absurdly.  That 
torn  coat  quite  spoiled  his  speech.  Before  he  left 
town  he  was  presented  with  a  new  one  ;  whereupon 
he  said  : 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  gift  ;  and  now  as  this  is  the 
result  of  my  accident,  I  wish  I  had  torn  my  trousers, 
too  !  " 

On  another  occasion,  when  he  was  speaking  in  the 
Church  of  Dr.  Beman,  in  Troy,  N.  Y.  (a  giant  of  the 
pulpit,  physically  as  well  as  mentally),  a  gas-burner 
began  to  blow.  The  good  clergyman  rose  softly  and 
stepped  behind  Gough  to  turn  it  down,  just  as  he 
threw  back  his  clenched  fist;  Dr.  Beman  received  the 
blow  full  in  the  face.  When  Gough  apologized,  he 
said  : 

"  Remember,  sir,  you  are  the  first  man  who  ever 
struck  me  with  impunity." 

These  were  the  high-water  days  of  temperance. 
Since  1843,  when  Gough  signed  the  pledge,  there  had 
been  a  revolution  in  public  sentiment.  Drunkenness 
was  no  longer  the  rule,  nor  even  the  fashion.  Liquor- 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  272,  273. 


134  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

selling  was  disreputable.  Bars  were  screened.  Ob- 
trusive decanters  were  banished  from  private  buffets. 
It  was  not  high  noon  ;  but  it  was  10.30  o'clock  by  the 
pointers  on  the  dial  of  reform,  and  the  "  good  time 
coming "  seemed  destined  to  chime  twelve  within 
another  decade. 

In  a  free  country  social  reforms  are  certain  to  work 
into  politics.  'Tis  thus  that  results  are  funded,  put 
out  at  interest,  and  made  to  yield  a  revenue  of  right- 
eousness. So  now  the  temperance  convictions  of  the 
people  were  stereotyped  into  statutes.  Local-option 
laws  were  in  force  in  Pennslyvania — had  been  since 
1843.  In  1851,  Neal  Dow,  a  name  synonymous  with 
prohibition,  pushed  the  legislature  of  Maine  to  adopt 
"  the  Maine  Law,"  so-called,  a  law  which  has  been 
the  pattern  of  prohibitory  legislation  ever  since. 
Massachusetts  and  Vermont  passed  similar  statutes 
in  1852. 

It  would  be  folly  to  ascribe  these  successes  to  any 
one  reformer.  The  sources  of  a  river  lie  in  many 
springs.  Multitudes  of  good  men  and  true  (some  of 
them  "  mute,  inglorious  Miltons,"  whose  names  are 
"  unhonored  and  unsung"),  contributed  to  swell  the 
temperance  tide.  Among  them  all,  it  is  safe  to  say 
that  John  B.  Gough  stands  preeminent.  His  ad- 
vocacy made  an  epoch.  He  transferred  temperance 
from  the  schoolhouses  to  the  churches.  He  attracted 
to  it  influential  names  which  had  looked  askance  and 
stood  aloof.  He  made  it  popular  before  vast  assem- 
blages, drawn  together  to  laugh  at  Gough's  stories, 
but  taught  before  they  were  dismissed  to  hate  the 
drink. 

'Tis  true  that  he  did  not  then,  nor  until  a  good  deal 


"FOOTPRINTS  ON  THE  SANDS  OF  TIME."         135 

later,  set  as  much  value  as  others  did  upon  prohibi- 
tory law.  He  assented  to  the  principle  of  prohibi- 
tion. His  motto  was,  '•  Kindness,  sympathy,  and 
persuasion  for  the  victim — for  the  tempter,  law." 
But  he  emphasized  the  first  part,  rather  than  the 
second  half,  of  this  motto.  There  were  two  reasons 
for  this :  one,  philosophical ;  the  other,  tempera- 
mental. Mr.  Gough  was  a  good  deal  more  of  a  phi- 
losopher than  he  got  credit  for  being.  He  understood 
America  and  England.  He  knew  that  in  either 
country  a  statute  is  not  worth  the  paper  it  is  printed 
upon  unless  it  has  behind  it  a  friendly  and  executive 
public  opinion.  Law  cannot  execute  itself.  If  the 
law  officers  evade  it,  and  the  people  hold  it  in  disfavor, 
of  what  use  is  the  most  wholesome  statute?  The 
laws  against  theft,  arson,  adultery,  murder,  are  meas- 
urably enforced,  because  these  offenses  are  under  the 
frown  of  public  opinion. 

Hence  he  felt  free  to  follow  the  temperamental  im- 
pulses of  his  nature,  and  go  on  with  his  special  call- 
ing, viz.,  the  creation  of  temperance  sentiment.  This 
would  not  only  make  temperance  law,  but  enforce  it. 
A  great  speaker,  he  naturally  gave  himself,  perhaps 
too  onesidedly  for  awhile,  to  moral  advocacy.  It 
may  be,  also,  that  he  set  his  mark  too  high,  when  he 
said  :  "  Do  not  expect  prohibition  until  you  have 
four-fifths  of  the  community  on  your  side."  At  any 
rate,  there  must  be  a  good  working  majority  for  pro- 
hibition before  it  can  be  made  operative.  Meantime, 
Cough's  example  is  a  good  one  to  follow — work  for 
the  creation  of  that  majority. 


PART   VI. 

The  First  Visit  to  Great  Britain 


"  England,  with  all  thy  faults  I  love  thee  still." 
COWPER,  The  Task,  Book  II. 


I. 

THE    D£BUT    IN    LONDON. 

FORTY  years  ago  news  did  not  travel  quite  as 
rapidly  as  it  does  in  these  electric  days  ;  but  it  went 
fast  enough  to  carry  the  name  and  fame  of  John  B. 
Gough  to  those  who  were  stationed  on  the  watch- 
towers  of  public  observation  across  the  sea.  Nor  were 
American  books  and  speakers  as  highly  appreciated 
over  there  then  as  they  are  now.  It  was  a  flattering 
tribute  to  the  ability  of  the  Yankee  reformer  that  the 
leaders  of  the  temperance  cause  in  Great  Britain  so 
quickly  noticed  the  remarkable  results  attendant  upon 
his  career  three  thousand  miles  away  ;  and  credit- 
able, also,  to  their  own  perspicacity. 

The  Macedonian  cry,  "Come  over  and  help  us," 
had  been  echoing  from  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic 
and  sounding  in  Mr.  Gough's  ears  for  months.  To 
these  appeals  he  was  long  deaf.  He  was  happy  and 
useful  here  ;  why  go  there  ?  Could  the  need  be 
greater  abroad  than  it  was  at  home  ?  Besides,  with 
habitual  modesty,  he  thought  his  style  of  speaking 
would  not  please  the  English  and  Scotch  people. 
They  liked  argument  ;  he  was  intuitional.  H-e  did 
not  realize  the  splendor  of  his  own  powers.  What 
men  do  with  ease  they  seldom  value. 

For  these  and  other  reasons  Mr.  Gough  replied  to 


140  JOHN    B.    GOUG.T. 

the  British  overtures,  as  the  Shunammite  did  to 
Elisha,  "I  dwell  among  mine  own  people." 

There  is  great  virtue  in  persistency — and  it  is  an 
English  virtue.  The  more  he  declined  the  more 
pressing  they  became.  Accordingly,  like  some  young 
ladies  who  say  "Yes"  to  ardent  swains,  "  to  get  rid 
of  them,"  Mr.  Gough,  in  the  spring  of  1853,  mailed  an 
agreement  to  visit  Great  Britainan~zi-9££jid  the  summer 
vacation  there,  provided  the  London  Temperance 
League,  whose  committee  had  been  in  correspond- 
ence with  him,  would  agree  to  pay  Mrs.  Gough's  and 
his  own  expenses  to  and  fro,  including  one  week  in 
Paris  and  another  down  at  Sandgate.  He  thought 
this  proposition  would  not  be  accepted — further  proof 
of  his  modesty.  It  was,  though,  and  eagerly.  Thus 
it  was  arranged  that  he  should  have  a  summer  trip 
abroad,  and  pay  for  it  by  six  weeks'  service  to  the 
League. 

The  mercurial  reformer  had  scarcely  signed  the 
agreement  before  his  heart  failed  him — he  could  not, 
would  not  go — he  was  sure  the  Britons  would  dislike 
him — failure  was  foreordained.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher 
was  visiting  the  Goughs  at  "  Hillside  "  at  the  time, 
and  he  laughed  at  and  scolded  John  (as  he  familiarly 
called  him)  by  turns. 

"Very  well,"  said  Gough  ;  "I  will  go,  if  I  must ; 
but  I've  borrowed  $250  to  make  myself  independent 
of  the  League  ;  and  if  I  do  fail  in  my  first  speech,  I 
shall  come  back  by  the  next  steamer !  " 

Deacon  Grant,  too,  and  other  friends,  encouraged 
the  despondent  advocate — and  "Mary"  was  at  his  side. 

They  sailed  in  the  steamer  America  on  the  2oth  of 
July,  and  reached  Liverpool  on  the  3oth,  after  a 


THE    D15BUT    IN    LONDON.  T/J.T 

pleasant  voyage,  during  which  the  wife  was  seasick 
while  the  husband  was  not.  On  the  tug  which  took 
them  ashore  they  met  a  deputation  of  temperance 
friends,  headed  by  Smith  Harrison,  Esq.,  a  Liverpool 
merchant,  who  gave  the  visitors  an  English  welcome, 
and  escorted  them  five  miles  out  of  the  city  to  the 
residence  of  a  wealthy  Quaker,  Charles  Wilson,  where 
they  slept  that  night  in  the  prophet's  chamber, 
senenaded  by  thrushes  on  the  lawn,  and  couched  in 
delicious  peace. 

The  next  day,  August  ist,  they  took  the  train  for 
London,  over  the  Northwestern  Railway,  which  runs 
through  a  picturesque  country,  typically  English — 
"  rich,  green  foliage  ;  hedge  rows,  new  to  American 
eyes  ;  clumps  of  trees  artistically  planted  ;  agricul- 
ture in  perfection  ;  magnificent  mansions  of  landed 
proprietors ;  cottage  homes  of  laborers  ;  and  here 
and  there  a  half-ruined  castle,  or  the  romantic  re- 
mains of  some  fine  old  abbey."  After  four  or  five 
hours  spent  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  beautiful  pano- 
rama as  it  unrolled  before  their  eyes — an  experience 
"new  and  yet  familiar  "  to  John,  new  and  unfamilar 
to  Mary,  but  "  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out"  to 
both — the  travelers  whirled  into  London. 

Here,  again,  they  were  met,  warmly  greeted,  and 
carried  to  the  house  of  George  Cruikshank,  between 
whom  and  John  Gough  (as  the  English  preferred  to 
call  him)  in  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  Mr. 
Cruikshank  was  then  in  the  fulness  of  his  fame  as  an 
artist,  and  was  equal  master  of  pencil  and  brush.  As 
a  caricaturist  without  a  rival  in  his  day,  he  displayed 
his  fertile  imagination  and  comic  humor  in  illustra- 
tions each  one  of  which  would  create  a  laugh  under 


142  JOHN    B.    GOT'GH. 

the  ribs  of  death.  He  was,  withal,  a  great  friend  of 
temperance,  and  let  the  fact  be  known  at  a  time  when 
temperance  and  fanaticism  were  synonymous.  His 
moral  courage  equaled  his  genius.  Gough  and 
Cruikshank  were  drawn  together  by  kindred  tastes 
and  feelings.  One  was  the  Gough  of  art,  the  other 
was  the  Cruikshank  of  speech.  Gough  owned  and 
showed  at  "  Hillside  "  the  finest  collection  of  Cruik- 
shankiana  extant — more  extensive  even  than  the  one 
in  the  British  Museum. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Mr.  Gough  should  enter 
at  once  upon  a  temperance  campaign.  He  was  to 
speak  first  in  Exeter  Hall,  London,  on  Tuesday  even- 
ing, August  zd,  the  day  after  his  arrival  in  London — 
pretty  quick  work  !  After  this  the  list  of  engage- 
ments was  continuous  through  the  month,  with  the 
Sundays  alone  set  aside  for  rest. 

The  Executive  Committee  of  the  London  Temper- 
ance League  had  engaged  Mr.  Gough  on  his  Amer- 
ican reputation.  Not  one  of  them  had  heard  him. 
But  they  wisely  determined  that  the  responsibility  of 
failure,  if  failure  there  should  be,  should  rest  upon  the 
orator,  rather  than  upon  the  committee.  They,  there- 
fore, advertised  him  magnificently — sent  his  "Autobio- 
graphy "  out  by  thousands  of  copies — arranged  a 
course  of  lectures  on  Gough's  life  and  mission 
by  a  competent  English  speaker,  enlisted  the  press, 
got  the  ear  of  litterateurs,  secured  the  aid  of  the  clergy 
— and,  in  brief,  stood  the  United  Kingdom  on  tiptoe 
with  expectation.  Failure  in  such  circumstances 
meant  ruin — success  insured  limitless  opportunities 
for  usefulness. 

How  did  Mr.  Gough  meet  these  high  expectations? 


THE  D£BUT  IN  LONDON.  143 

To  the  surprise  of  the  Leaguers,  he  did  not  seem  to 
understand  the  situation.  For  example,  he  passed 
the  whole  of  the  zd  of  August  in  riding  about  London 
on  top  of  an  omnibus,  pointing  out  to  "  Mary  "  the 
Bank,  the  Mansion  House,  St.  Paul's,  Temple  Bar, 
the  Strand,  Fleet  street,  Westminster  Abbey,  the 
Houses  of  Parliament,  and  a  hundred  other  objects  of 
interest  as  the  'bus  rolled  along  ;  in  admiring  a  Punch- 
and-Judy  show  (of  all  things  in  the  world);  in  undig- 
nified explorations  and  exclamations,  which  quite 
horrified  the  staid  escort  provided  by  the  League — 
and  this  when  he  was  to  put  his  reputation  to  the 
touch  that  very  night,  "  to  gain  or  lose  it  all."  There 
was  consternation  among  the  Leaguers.  They  did 
not  know  what  to  make  of  this  "  boy  let  loose  from 
school  " — nor  of  his  female  pal.  They  would  have 
been  better  pleased  had  their  protege  shut  himself  up 
in  serious  preparation  for  the  ordeal  that  awaited  him 
— and  them  as  his  sponsors. 

Gentlemen,  calm  yourselves  !  Your  orator,  had  he 
been  the  profoundest  of  philosophers,  could  not  have 
hit  upon  a  better  method  than  the  one  he  used.  His 
facts  were  all  in  hand.  His  speech  was  in  his  mind 
and  heart.  What  he  needed  was  recreation,  the 
husbanding  of  mental  and  moral  vitality,  until  he 
could  pour  it  out  in  the  molten  lava  of  volcanic 
speech.  Those  loiterings  amused  him,  and  kept  his 
thoughts  off  of  himself  and  the  impending  dtbut ;  no 
matter,  therefore,  about  the  annoyance  of  the  com- 
mittee— they  were  not  to  lose  or  save  the  day. 

Exeter  Hall,  where  Mr.  Gough  had  consented  to 
begin  his  English  work,  was  the  headquarters  of  phi- 
lanthropy in  Great  Britain.  It  occupied  in  London 


144  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  position  held  in  Boston  by  Faneuil  Hall.  The 
foremost  orators  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  in  the  nine- 
teenth century  had  taught  its  echoes  the  sweetest  of 
all  music — eloquent  human  speech.  Here  Brougham, 
Canning,  George  Thompson,  Henry  Vincent,  Daniel 
O'Connell,  and  John  Bright,  had  addressed  popular 
parliaments,  to  whose  behests  the  official  assembly 
yonder  in  Westminster  had  been  compelled  to  bow. 
The  air  of  the  place  was  suggestive  of  the  loftiest 
names  and  aims  in  contemporaneous  history — would 
stifle  a  small  man  and  inspire  a  great  one. 

Exeter  Hall  stands  on  the  Strand,  is  entered  through 
a  spacious  door,  beyond  which  a  wide  stairway  leads 
into  the  auditorium,  where  3,000  people  may  be  com- 
fortably seated.  On  that  2d  day  of  August,  1853, 
the  crowd  began  to  gather  as  early  as  4  o'clock  P.M. 
At  6  o'clock  the  doors  were  opened  ;  the  hall  was 
filled  in  five  minutes.  At  8  o'clock,  when  the  meeting 
began,  thousands  were  being  turned  away. 

It  was  what  the  journals  called  a  "  respectable " 
audience — meaning  by  that  term  that  it  was  com- 
posed of  prominent  and  influential  men  and  women 
— and  this  although  London  in  August  is  as  empty 
Of  the  "  respectable  "  classes  as  any  great  American 
city  would  be  at  the  same  season.  Many  had  come 
into  town  for  the  occasion.  Representatives  of  the 
best  brain  and  heart  of  Great  Britain  were  in  the 
seats  and  on  the  platform.  The  skill  and  suc- 
cess of  the  Executive  Committee  as  advertisers 
were  abundantly  vindicated.  Now  how  about  the 
orator  ? 

J.  S.  Buckingham,  the  president  of  the  League,  was 
in  the  chair.  As  the  speaker  came  forward  he  was 


THE    D^BUT    IN    LONDON.  145 

received  with  a  tumult  of  cheers — which  Gough  said 
"  took  his  breath  away."     He  adds  : 

"  While  Mr.  Buckingham  was  making  the  introductory 
speech  I  reasoned  within  myself  '  Here  are  3,000  men  and 
women  wrought  up  to  excitement  and  surely  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. They  expect  a  flight  of  sky-rockets,  and  I  cannot 
provide  it.  No  man  can  address  an  audience  like  this  success- 
fully while  in  such  a  state.  Something  must  be  done.'  When 
I  was  introduced  I  began  to  speak  very  tamely,  knowing  that 
unless  they  were  let  down  no  living  man  could  speak  up  to 
their  enthusiasm  for  an  hour  and  a  half  ;  so  I  continued  in  that 
vein  until  I  saw  the  enthusiasm  fade  away  into  disappointment. 
Then  I  heard  one  on  the  platform  groan  audibly  'Ah  ! — h — h  ! ' 
another  sighed  loud  enough  to  be  heard — 'This'll  never  do  for 
London.'  Then  I  commenced  in  real  earnest,  laid  hold  of  my 
theme,  and  did  the  best  I  could."  ' 

'Tis  interesting  to  compare  Mr.  Gough's  account 
with  the  utterances  of  other  competent  judges.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Campbell,  the  leading  nonconformist  of  the 
day,  declares  : 

"  Great  as  had  been  the  expectations,  Mr.  Gough  surpassed 
them  all.  The  vast  multitude  he  swayed  as  with  an  enchanter's 
wand.  As  he  willed,  it  was  moved  to  laughter  or  melted  <nto 
tears." 

Newman  Hall,  who  sat  on  the  platform,  a  close 
observer,  said  : 

"  Demosthenes  could  not  have  done  more." 

The  newspapers  the  next  morning  devoted  pages 
to  the  speaker  and  the  speech.  As  fair  specimens  of 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  286. 
10 


146  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

these  descriptions,  we  quote  two — the  first  from  the 
British  Banner  : 

"Mr.  Gough  is  a  well-adjusted  mixture  of  the  poet,  orator, 
and  dramatist.  His  manner  abounds  in  changes.  The  ab- 
sence of  unmitigated  vehemence  is  highly  favorable  to  the 
economy  of  strength,  and  a  large  measure  of  repose  prevades 
the  whole  exhibition.  Resting  himself,  he  gives  rest  to  his 
audience,  and  hence  both  remain  unwearied  till  the  end.  Mr. 
Gough  gave  no  signs  of  fatigue  last  night.  At  the  close  of 
nearly  an  hour  and  forty  minutes  he  seemed  quite  as  fresh  as 
when  he  began,  and  quite  capable  of  continuing  till  midnight, 
rock-crowing,  or  morning !  No  heat  even  was  apparent  to 
us;  perspiration  was  out  of  the  question ;  the  nandkerchief 
was  never,  that  we  observed,  once  in  requisition  throughout 
the  whole  of  his  surprising  display.  He  resembled  a  clump  of 
Highland  heather  under  the  blaze  of  a  burning  sun — as  dry  as 
powder  !  It  is  as  natural  to  him  to  speak — and  that  on  a  scale 
to  be  heard  by  the  largest  auditory — as  to  breathe.  It  ceases 
now  to  be  a  matter  of  astonishment  that  he  makes  so  little  of 
standing  up  to  speak  every  night  in  succession,  for  weeks  to- 
gether, and  traveling  for  that  purpose  one  or  more  hundreds  of 
miles  by  day  !  There  is  an  utter  absence  of  all  mental  pertur- 
bation; before  he  commences  there  seems  no  idea  of  his  being 
about  to  do  anything  at  all  extraordinary,  or,  when  he  has 
finished,  that  anything  extraordinary  has  been  performed.  It 
seems  to  be  as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  walking  or  running, 
sitting  down  or  rising  up.  His  self-command  is  perfect,  and 
hence  his  control  over  an  assembly  is  complete.  Governing 
himself,  he  easily  governs  all  around  him.  It  was  impossible 
for  any  man  to  have  been  more  thoroughly  at  home  than  he  was 
last  night.  Like  a  well-bred  man,- once  on  his  feet,  there  was 
the  absence  alike  of  bashfulness  and  impudence. 

"  The  address  was  entirely  without  order  of  any  sort — nay, 
for  this  the  assembly  was  prepared  at  the  outset  by  the  inti- 
mation that  he  had  never  written  and  never  premeditated  a 
speech  in  his  life !  Last  night  the  address  was  a  succession  of 


THE    DEBUT    IN    LONDON  147 

pictures  delivered  in  a  manner  the  most  natural,  and  hence,  at 
one  time,  feeling  was  in  the  ascendency,  and,  at  another,  power. 
His  gifts  of  mimicry  seemed  great;  this  perilous,  though  valu- 
able faculty,  however,  was  but  sparingly  exercised.  It  is  only 
as  the  lightning,  in  a  single  flash,  illumining  all  and  gone, 
making  way  for  the  rolling  peal  and  the  falling  torrent. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  last  night  he  addressed  himself  to  the 
fancy  and  to  the  heart.  We  cannot  doubt,  however,  that  Mr. 
Gough  is  in  a  very  high  degree  capable  of  dealing  with  prin- 
ciples and  of  grappling  with  an  adversary  by  way  of  argument, 
but  he  adopted  a  different,  and,  as  we  think,  a  much  wiser 
course  for  a  first  appearance.  The  mode  of  address  is  one  of 
which  mankind  will  never  tire  till  human  nature  becomes 
divested  of  its  inherent  properties.  He  recited  a  series  of 
strikingly  pertinent  facts,  all  of  which  he  set  in  beautiful  pic- 
tures. Nothing  could  exceed  the  unity  of  the  impression, 
while  nothing  could  be  more  multifarious  than  the  means  em- 
ployed to  effect  it.  It  was  a  species  of  mortar-firing,  in  which 
old  nails,  broken  bottles,  chips  of  iron,  and  bits  of  metal, 
together  with  balls  of  lead — anything,  everything  partaking  of 
the  nature  of  a  missile — was  available.  The  compound  mass 
was  showered  forth  with  resistless  might  and  powerful  execu- 
tion. The  great  idea,  which  was  uppermost  all  the  evening, 
was  the  evils  of  drinking;  and,  under  a  deep  conviction  of  that 
truth,  every  man  must  have  left  the  assembly. 

"  The  conclusion  to  which  we  have  come,  then,  is  that  the 
merits  of  Mr.  Gough  have  been  by  no  means  overrated.  In 
England  he  would  take  a  stand  quite  as  high  as  he  has  taken 
in  the  United  States.  There  is  no  hazard  now  in  saying  that 
there  will  be  no  disappointment.  He  will  nowhere  fail  to 
equal,  if  not  to  surpass,  expectation;  and  his  triumph  will, 
among  Englishmen,  be  all  the  more  complete  from  the  utter 
absence  of  all  pretension.  His  air  makes  promise  of  noth- 
ing ;  and  hence  all  that  is  given  is  so  much  above  the  con- 
tract. It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  anything  more  entirely 
free  from  empiricism.  From  first  to  last  it  is  nature  acting  in 
one  of  her  favorite  sons.  Oratorically  considered,  he  is  never 


148  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

at  fault.  While  the  vocable  pronunciation,  with  scarcely  an 
exception,  is  perfect,  the  elocutionary  element  is  in  every  way 
worthy  of  it.  He  is  wholly  free,  on  the  one  hand,  from  heavy 
monotony,  and,  on  the  other,  from  ranting  declamation,  properly 
so-called.  There  is  no  mouthing — no  stilted  shouting.  His 
whole  speaking  was  eminently  true  ;  there  is  nothing  false  either 
in  tone  or  inflection ;  and  the  same  remark  applies  to  emphasis. 
All  is  truth ;  the  result  is  undeviating  pleasure  and  irresistible 
impression.  His  air  is  that  of  a  man  who  never  thought  five 
minutes  on  the  subject  of  public  speaking ;  but  who  surrenders 
himself  to  the  guidance  of  his  genius,  while  he  ofttimes  snatches 
a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art. 

"  In  Mr.  Gough,  however,  there  are  far  higher  considerations 
than  those  of  eloquence,  We  cannot  close  without  adverting 
to  the  highest  attribute  of  his  speaking — it  is  prevaded  by  a 
spirit  of  religion.  Not  a  word  escapes  him  which  is  objection- 
able on  that  score.  Other  things  being  equal,  this  never  fails 
to  lift  a  speaker  far  above  his  fellows.  In  this  respect,  he  is  a 
pattern  to  temperance  advocates.  He  did  not,  to  be  sure, 
preach  Christianity;  that  was  not  his  business;  but  the  whole 
of  his  enchanting  effusion  was  in  harmony  with  its  doctrines, 
always  breathing  its  spirit,  and  occasionally  paying  it  a  natural 
and  graceful  tribute.  At  the  close,  in  particular,  that  was 
strongly  marked.  He  there  stated  that  the  temperance  cause 
was  the  offspring  of  the  Christian  Church,  adding  that  whatever 
was  such  was  in  its  own  nature  immortal,  and  thence  predict- 
ing the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  cause  in  which  he  was  em- 
barked." 

Our  second  extract  is  from  the  Weekly  News,  and  is 
an  equally  excellent  pen-portrait  of  the  man  and 
analysis  of  his  power  : 

"  He  is  dressed  in  sober  black;  his  hair  is  dark,  and  so  is  his 
face ;  but  there  is  a  muscular  vigor  in  his  frame,  for  which  we 
were  not  prepared.  We  should  judge  Gough  has  a  large 
share  of  the  true  elixir  vita — animal  spirits.  His  voice  is  one 


THE    D^BUT    IN    LONDON.  149 

of  great  power  and  pathos,  and  he  speaks  without  an  effort. 
The  first  sentence,  as  it  falls  gently  and  easily  from  his  lips, 
tells  us  that  Gough  has  that  true  oratorical  power  which  neither 
money,  nor  industry,  nor  persevering  study  can  ever  win. 
Like  the  poet,  the  orator  must  be  born.  You  may  take  a  man 
six  feet  high,  he  shall  be  good-looking,  have  a  good  voice,  and 
speak  English  with  a  correct  pronunciation ;  you  shall  write 
for  that  man  a  splendid  speech,  you  shall  have  him  taught  elo- 
cution by  Mr.  Webster — and  yet  you  shall  no  more  make  that 
man  an  orator  than,  to  use  a  homely  phrase,  you  can  '  make  a 
silk  purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear.'  Gough  is  an  orator  born.  Pope 
tells  us  he  '  lisped  in  numbers,'  and  in  his  boyhood  Gough 
must  have  had  the  true  tones  of  the  orator  on  his  tongue. 
There  was  no  effort — no  fluster — all  was  easy  and  natural.  He 
was  speaking  for  the  first  time  to  a  public  meeting  in  his  native 
land — speaking  to  thousands,  who  had  come  with  the  highest 
expectations,  who  expected  much  and  required  much — speak- 
ing by  means  of  the  press  to  the  whole  British  public.  Under 
such  circumstances,  occasional  nervousness  would  have  been 
pardonable ;  but,  from  the  first,  Gough  was  perfectly  self- 
possessed.  There  are  some  men  who  have  prodigious  advan- 
tages on  account  of  appearance  alone.  We  think  it  was  Fox 
who  said,  it  was  impossible  for  any  one  to  be  as  wise  as  Thurlow 
looked.  The  great  Lord  Chatham  was  particularly  favored  by 
nature  in  this  respect.  In  our  own  time,  in  the  case  of  Lord 
Denman,  we  have  seen  how  much  can  be  done  by  means  of  a 
portly  presence  and  a  stately  air.  Gough  has  nothing  of  this. 
He  is  just  as  plain  a  personage  as  George  Dawson,  of  Birming- 
ham, would  be,  if  he  were  to  cut  his  hair  and  shave  off  his 
mustache.  But  though  we  have  named  George  Dawson, 
Gough  does  not  speak  like  him,  or  any  other  living  man. 
Gough  is  no  servile  copy,  but  a  real  original.  We  have  no  one 
in  England  we  can  compare  him  to.  He  seems  to  speak  by 
inspiration — as  the  apostles  spoke,  who  were  commanded  not 
to  think  beforehand  what  they  should  say.  The  spoken  word 
seems  to  come  naturally — as  air  bubbles  up  from  the  bottom 
of  the  well.  In  what  he  said  there  was  nothing  new- -there 


150  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

could  be  nothing  new — the  tale  he  told  was  old  as  the  hills ; 
yet  as  he  spoke  an  immense  audience  grew  hushed  and  still, 
and  hearts  were  melted,  and  tears  glistened  in  female  eyes, 
and  that  great  human  mass  became  knit  together  by  a  common 
spell.  Disraeli  says, 'Sir  Robert  Peel  played  upon  the  House 
of  Commons  as  an  old  fiddle.'  Gough  did  the  same  at  Exeter 
Hall.  At  his  bidding,  stern,  strong  men,  as  well  as  sensitive 
women,  wept  or  laughed — they  swelled  with  indignation  or 
desire.  Of  the  various  chords  of  human  passion  he  was  master. 
At  times  he  became  roused,  and  we  thought  how — 

"  '  In  his  ire  Olympian  Pericles 

Thundered  and  lightened,  and  all  Hellas  shook.' 

"  At  other  times,  in  his  delineation  of  American  manners,  he 
proved  himself  almost  an  equal  of  Silsbee.  Off  the  stage  we 
have  nowhere  seen  a  better  mimic  than  Gough ;  and  this  must 
give  him  great  power,  especially  in  circles  where  the  stage  is 
as  much  a  terra  incognita,  as  Utopia,  or  the  Island  of  Laputa 
itself.  We  have  always  thought  that  a  fine  figure  of  Byron, 
where  he  tells  us  that  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  ocean's  mane. 
Something  of  the  same  kind  might  be  said  to  be  applicable  to 
Mr.  Gough ;  he  seemed  to  ride  upon  the  audience — to  have 
mastered  it  completely  to  his  will.  He  seemed  to  bestride  it, 
as  we  could  imagine  Alexander  bestriding  Bucephalus. 

"  Gough  spoke  for  nearly  two  hours.  Evidently  the  audience 
could  have  listened,  had  he  gone  on  till  midnight.  We  often 
hear  that  the  age  of  oratory  has  gone  by,  that  the  press  super- 
sedes the  tongue,  that  the  appeal  must  henceforth  be  made  to 
the  reader  in  his  study,  not  to  the  hearer  in  the  crowded  hall. 
There  is  much  truth  in  that ;  nevertheless,  the  true  orator  will 
always  please  his  audience,  and  true  oratory  will  never  die." 

It  is  evident  that  the  excursion  of  John  Gough,  on 
the  top  of  the  omnibus,  his  flirtations  with  Punch 
and  Judy,  and  his  boyish  delight  in  it  all,  did  not 


THE   D^BUT    IN   LONDON.  l$t 

destroy  his  chances  on  that  Tuesday  night  in  Exeter 
Hall. 

We  say  to  the  apprehensive  gentlemen  of  the  Ex- 
ecutive Committee,  as  Deacon  Grant  did  to  Mr. 
Gough  on  the  occasion  referred  to  in  a  prior  page — 

"  Don't  you  ever  scare  us  so  again  !  " 


II. 


"  HOW   DEAR    TO    MY    HEART    ARE    THE    SCENES    OF    MY 
CHILDHOOD." 

THREE  more  monster  meetings  in  London  were 
addressed  by  Mr.  Gough,  another  in  Exeter  Hall, 
and  two  in  Whittington  Club-Room,  ere  he  entered 
the  "  provinces,"  as  the  the  regions  outside  of  the 
metropolis  are  indiscriminately  named  by  our  English 
cousins. 

London  is  England;  Paris  is  France;  Berlin  is 
Germany;  Vienna  is  Austria.  There  is  no  city  in 
this  country  which  dominates  America.  New  York 
is  the  financial  center;  and  a  New  York  reputation 
in  art  or  literature,  is  an  "  open  sesame"  across  the 
continent.  But  great  names  are  made  without  the 
indorsement  of  Manhattan  Island.  Gough  himself  is 
a  case  in  point.  Indeed,  only  one  illustrious  American 
speaker  of  the  past  generation  had  any  connection 
with  New  York  (Henry  Ward  Beecher), — and  he 
preached  in  Brooklyn. 

Mr.  Gough's  London  dtbut  preannounced  him 
everywhere.  Like  Byron,  he  awoke  to  find  himself 
famous,  on  the  morning  after  that  event.  Traveling 
towards  Scotland,  he  spoke  at  various  places  en  route, 
and  at  Galashiels,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Melrose 
and  Abbotsford,  faced  his  first  audience  of  Scotsmen, 


"HOW    DEAR   TO    MY    HEART,"    ETC.  153 

after  the  lecture  eating  salmon  "  caught  in  the  Tweed," 
and  hearing  "  Burns's  songs  sung  in  the  pure  Scotch 
dialect."  At  Glasgow  he  spoke  to  thousands  in  the 
City  Hall.  It  was  not  until  the  ist  of  September, 
that  he  appeared  before  the  people  of  Edinburgh. 
Here  he  had  an  ovation,  and  the  visit  was  memo- 
rably punctuated  by  the  presence  of  Dr.  Guthrie, 
Professor  Miller,  and  a  host  of  celebrities — his  firm 
friends  for  ever  after. 

This  taste  of  Scotland  taught  the  orator,  spite  of 
his  dismal  forebodings,  that  human  nature  is  much 
the  same  in  all  lands,  with  due  allowance  for  super- 
ficial differences  produced  by  local  causes;  and  that 
the  English  and  Scotch,  notwithstanding  their  sup- 
posed predilection  for  argument,  take  kindly  and 
respond  readily  to  men  of  the  emotional  and  pictorial 
school. 

Encouraged  by  this  discovery,  Mr.  Gough,  took 
the  train  at  Edinburgh  for  Liverpool,  where  he  passed 
a  few  charming  days  with  Mr.  Harrison,  the  gentle- 
man who  met  him  on  the  tug  upon  his  arrival  from 
America.  Thence  he  went  to.  London,  to  attend  a 
temperance  ffae  in  Surrey  Gardens,  and  addressed 
17,000  people — his  largest  audience  up  to  that  date. 

The  last  week  in  September,  he  had  so  far  filled  his 
engagements  that  he  felt  at  liberty  to  claim  and  enjoy 
that  long-anticipated  visit  to  Sandgate — "  dear  Sand- 
gate,  down  in  Kent."  This  grown-up  boy  entered  it 
on  top  of  one  of  those  "  Valyer "  'buses  which  had 
been  the  awe  of  his  childhood,  found  in  the  driver  one 
of  his  mother's  former  scholars,  rode  through  the 
long  street  in  a  fever  of  excitement,  as  he  read  the 
familiar,  Dickensesque  names  on  the  signs,  just  as  he 


154  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

remembered  them  a  quarter  of  a  century  earlier, — 
"  Jimmy  Bugg,  the  cobbler;  Reynolds,  the  baker; 
Draynor,  the  fishmonger," — scarcely  a  noticeable 
change  in  the  whole  drowsy  stretch. 

Best  of  all,  he  was  remembered — and  his  mother,  as 
a  kind  of  local  divinity.  The  old  friends  and  play- 
mates of  the  past  could  not  greet  him  warmly  enough 
to  satisfy  their  good  hearts,  though  they  hugged  and 
kissed  him — Mrs.  Beatty,  in  particular,  a  dear  old  soul 
who  had  comforted  "  Johnny  "  with  milk  and  ginger- 
bread on  the  eve  of  emigration.  Five  never  to-be-for- 
gotten days  "  Johnny  "  Gough,  as  they  persisted  in 
calling  him,  spent  among  these  humble  folk  and 
homely  scenes.  He  ransacked  the  house  where  he 
was  born  from  cellar  to  garret  (an  easy  task) — found 
the  very  nail  on  which  he  used  to  hang  his  coat  and 
hat — hobnobbed  with  the  keeper  of  Sandgate  Castle 
now  quite  decrepit — roamed  through  the  town  and 
over  the  hills  to  explore  anew  the  haunts  of  boyhood 
— walked  to  Folkestone,  along  the  road  by  the  "  sad 
sea  waves,"  to  look  at  the  building  where  he  had  re- 
ceived his  only  schooling  (but  it  was  gone  !) — got  out 
of  the  present  and  into  the  past,  as  an  imaginative 
and  poetic  nature  could  do  without  an  effort — and 
felt  a  mighty  aching  sense  of  grief  at  the  thought  of 
the  pauper  grave  in  which  she  lay  with  whose  memory 
all  these  well-remembered  scenes  were  so  indissolubly 
associated. 

Soon  he  was  joined  by  a  party  of  notabilities  from 
London  and  elsewhere,  to  whom  he  pointed  out  these 
same  homely  scenes  and  introduced  these  same 
humble  folk.  His  father,  who  had  followed  him  from 
America,  was  with  him — which  further  helped  to 


"  HOW    DEAR    TO    MY    HEART,"    ETC.  155 

complete  the  illusion  and  enchant  the  years  out  of  to- 
day and  into  yesterday.  And  his  friend,  Cruikshank, 
mightily  interested,  and  quite  at  home  in  such  sur- 
roundings, sketched  Gough's  birthplace,  and  repro- 
duced the  landscape,  as  an  artist  might,  in  many 
portfolio  studies. 

Mr.  Gough's  pride  in  his  birthplace  and  fond  re- 
membrance of  his  boyhood  friends,  lowly  though  they 
were,  is  not  the  least  praiseworthy  of  his  traits.  Re- 
member, he  was  in  England — the  home  of  snobbery. 
He  was  famous — but  near  enough  to  the  time  "  when 
days  were  dark  and  friends  were  few,"  to  be  sensitive 
on  the  subject.  Here  he  stood,  the  admired  center 
of  a  circle  of  flatterers.  One  whose  manliness  was  of 
less  fine  fiber  would  have  concealed  those  bygone 
experiences,  spoken  little  of  Sandgate,  and  gone 
thither,  if  he  went  at  all,  alone.  This  whole  episode 
stirs  affection  for  this  man,  and  reveals  his  moral 
altitude. 

But  how  proud  the  Sandgaters  were  of  "Johnny" 
Gough  !  How  they  thronged  over  to  attend  his  lec- 
ture at  Folkestone  !  How  they  laughed  at  his  wit 
and  cried  at  his  pathos  !  What  a  great  man  he  was 
— as  they  always  knew  he  would  be  ! 

This  happening  was  an  idyll  in  their  lives  and  in 
his  life.  And  Mrs.  Beatty  !  Mr.  Gough  gave  her  on 
the  spot  a  crisp,  new  five-pound  note — $25 — in  part 
payment  for  the  milk  (of  human  kindness)  and  ginger- 
bread (of  affection)  which  she  had  given  him  so  long 
ago  ;  an  amount  which  he  never  failed  to  send  her 
while  she  lived,  at  Christmas,  in  annual  installments 
on  account  of  the  "  debt." 


III. 


HERE,    THERE,    AND    YONDER    IN    THE    BRITISH    ISLES. 

UPON  the  termination  of  his  six  weeks'  engagement 
with  the  League,  Mr.  Gough  was  induced  to  sign  a 
new  contract,  he  agreeing  to  deliver  two  hundred 
lectures,  commencing  in  London  on  the  3d  of  October; 
and  they  stipulating  to  pay  him  at  the  rate  of  ten 
guineas — about  $50 — a  lecture  and  all  expenses — the 
best  terms  he  had  made  thus  far.  This  programme 
disarranged  his  American  plans  ;  but  he  wrote  home 
canceling  all  outstanding  dates,  and  prepared  to  give 
twelve  months  to  temperance  in  the  British  Isles. 
"  You  must  remember,  Mr.  Gough,"  his  friends  said 
to  him,  "  that  you  owe  something  to  your  native 
country."  This  argument,  coupled  wth  the  fact  that 
he  was  accomplishing  wonders,  persuaded  him,  at  the 
conclusion  of  this  first  vear,  to  add  another  on  the 
same  terms  ;  so  that  his  contemplated  summer  out- 
ing in  1853,  grew  into  an  absence  of  two  years. 

It  is  not  easy  work  to  give  two  hundred  lectures  in 
a  year.  It  means  the.  fatigue  and  exposure  of  con- 
stant travel,  and  the  excitement  and  reaction  of  the 
platform  four  or  five  nights  in  every  week  until  the 
advent  of  warm  weather  ends  the  professional  season. 
In  Mr.  Gough's  case  there  was  the  added  strain  of 
speaking  always  and  everywhere  on  one  subject — 


HERE,  THERE,  YONDER,  IN  THE  BRITISH  ISLES.       157 

in  some  instances  scores  and  scores  of  times  in  one 
place  and  the  same  hall.  The  quality  of  his  physical 
and  mental  constitution  is  shown  by  his  endurance. 

Nor  did  this  professional  talker  merely  talk.  While 
his  nights  were  given  to  the  platform,  his  days  were 
given  to  hand-to-hand  work  among  the  intemperate, 
He  was  a  great  believer  in  contact — in  the  gospel  of 
hand-shaking.  In  almost  every  place  he  visited  there 
was  some  hard  case — too  hard  for  local  treatment ; 
and  so  this  expert  was  called  in  for  consultation. 
Thus  his  faculties  were  kept  in  perpetual  tension. 

Aside  from  the  good  he  did  to  others  in  these  daily 
excursions  to  seek  and  save,  Mr.  Gough  aided  him- 
self. For  he  was  ever  enlarging  his  experiences,  and 
always  adding  to  his  stock  of  incidents,  comic  and 
tragic  ;  and  was  thus  enabled  to  work  into  his  ad- 
dresses fresh  material  which  kept  them  up  to  date, 
and  imparted  to  each  a  local  flavor. 

In  referring  to  his  labors  in  the  homes  of  the  in- 
temperate, Mr.  Gough  says : 

"  I  know  the  term  '  brute '  is  often  used  in  reference  to 
drunkards,  but  they  are  not  brutes — they  are  men — debased, 
brutalized,  if  you  will;  but  strip  from  them  the  influence  of 
drink,  and  we  find  them  men,  in  many  cases  with  hearts  as 
warm,  feelings  as  tender,  and  sensibilities  as  keen  as  others 
possess.  Dickens  says  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  '  She  was  a  hard 
woman,  yet  in  her  heart,  away  up  a  great  many  stairs,  there 
was  a  door,  and  on  that  door  was  written,  woman.'  So  in  the 
heart  of  many  a  drunkard,  away  up  a  great  many  stairs,  in  a 
remote  corner  easily  passed,  there  is  a  door.  Tap  on  it  gently, 
again  and  again — persevere  ;  remember  Him  who  knocks  at  the 
door  of  your  heart  waiting  for  an  answer  till  '  His  locks  are  wet 
with  the  dew ' — and  be  patient ;  tap  on,  lovingly,  gently,  and 
the  quivering  lips  and  the  starting  tear  will  tell  you  you  have 


158  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

been  knocking  at  a  man's  heart,  not  a  brute's.  This  power  of 
drink  to  drain  and  dry  up  the  fountain  of  love  and  affection  in 
the  heart  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  we  should  hate  it."  ' 

In  illustration  of  this  truth,  he  tells  this  story  : 

"  A  man  came  to  me  at  Covent  Garden  and  said : 

"  '  Mr.  Gough,  I  want  you  to  come  into  my  place  of  business.' 

'"  I'm  in  a  little  hurry  now,'  I  replied. 

" '  You  must  come  into  my  place  of  business.' 

"  So  when  he  got  me  there — into  a  large  fruit-store,  where 
he  was  doing  business  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
or  three  hundred  pounds  ($1,250  or  $1,500)  a  week, — he  caught 
me  by  the  hand  and  said: 

"  '  God  bless  you,  sir ! ' 

"  •  What  for  ?  ' 

" '  I  heard  you  in  Exeter  Hall  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  and 
signed  the  pledge.  I  was  a  brute.' 

" '  No,  you  were  not." 

" '  Well,  I  was  worse.' 

" '  No,  you  were  not.' 

" '  Well,  I  was  as  bad  as  I  could  be.  Look  at  that  cellar  ! 
I  spent  a  whole  Sunday  in  that  cellar  on  a  heap  of  rotten  vege- 
tables with  a  rope  to  hang  myself  by  !  Now  sir,  I  lease  that 
cellar  and  clear  a  hundred  pounds  a  year.  God  bless  you  sir ! 
See  what  a  business  I'm  doing.  Look  here  !  See  that  woman 
in  the  corner  ?  She's  my  wife.  La  !  how  I  have  knocked  her 
about.  Would  you  go  and  shake  hands  with  her  ?  ' 

"'I've  no  objection.' 

" '  Do,  sir.' 

"  '  I  went  up  to  her  and  offered  my  hand.  She  held  back, 
and  said,  '  My  fingers  are  so  sticky  with  the  fruit,  sir.' 

"'La!'  said  the  husband,  'Mr.  Gough  don't  mind  sticky 
fingers.' 

" '  No,  sir,'  and  I  shook  hands  with  her.      Our  fingers  stuck 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  262,  263. 


HERE,  THERE,  YONDER,   IN  THE  BRITISH   ISLES.        159 

together !  They  were  stickier  than  I  expected.  Again  the 
man  said : 

" '  God  bless  you  sir !  I  wish  to  give  you  something.  Do 
you  like  oranges  ? ' 

" '  Sometimes.' 

"  He  went  to  a  shelf  that  was  full  of  them,  and  began  to 
fill  a  great  bag. 

'"  That's  enough,'  I  said. 

"  But  he  paid  no  attention,  and  went  on  filling  the  bag.  Then 
he  put  it  in  my  arms,  and  said : 

" '  There  !   Don't  say  a  word ;  but  go  along.   God  bless  you  ! ' 

"  I  had  positively  to  hire  a  cab  to  take  me  home."  ' 

As  showing  the  redemptive  power  of  temperance, 
and  the  significance  of  turning-points,  he  relates  this 
incident: 

"  I  had  just  spoken  in  the  City  Hall  of  Glasgow  to  2,500 
people.  I  was  staying  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  merchant 
princes  of  that  city,  and  when  we  came  down  stairs  from  the 
Hall  his  carriage  was  at  the  door — silver-mounted  harness, 
coachman  in  livery,  footman  in  plain  clothes.  You  know  it  is 
seldom  teetotalist  lecturers  ride  in  such  style,  and  it  is  proper, 
therefore,  that  we  should  speak  of  it  when  it  does  happen,  for 
the  good  of  the  cause.  On  reaching  the  pavement,  the  merchant 
said  :  '  It  is  so  drizzly  and  cold  you  had  better  get  into  the 
carriage,  and  wait  there  until  the  ladies  come  down."  I  think 
I  never  had  so  many  persons  to  shake  hands  with  me  as  I  did 
that  night.  '  You  saved  my  father  ! '  said  one.  '  You  saved  my 
brother! '  said  another,  and  a  third  said  :  '  I  owe  everything  I 
am  to  you ! '  My  hands  absolutely  ached  as  they  grasped 
them  one  after  another. 

"  Finally,  a  poor  wretched  creature  came  to  the  door  of  the 
carriage.  I  saw  his  bare  shoulder  and  naked  feet ;  his  hair 
seemed  grayer  than  mine.  He  came  up,  and  said  : 


1  Speech  on  "  Drinking  Usages  of  Society,"  pub.  by  Mass.  Tern. 
Soc'y,  1861. 


160  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  '  Will  you  shake  hands  with  me  ?  ' 

"  I  put  my  hand  into  his  hot,  burning  palm,  and  he  said, 
'  Don't  you  know  me  ?  ' 

" '  Why,'  said  I,  '  isn't  your  name  Aiken  ?  ' 

"  •  Yes.' 

" '  Harry  Aiken  ?  ' 

•••Yes.' 

" '  You  worked  with  me  in  the  bookbinder's  shop  of  Andrew 
Hutchinson, in  Worcester,  Massachusetts, in  1842,  didn't  you?' 

" '  Yes.' 

"  '  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  ' 

" '  I  am  desperately  poor.' 

"  I  said,  '  God  pity  you  ;  you  look  like  it ! ' 

"  I  gave  him  something,  and  obtained  the  services  of  Mr. 
Marr,  the  secretary  of  the  Scottish  League,  to  find  out  about 
him.  He  picks  up  rags  and  bones  in  the  streets  of  Glasgow, 
and  resides  in  a  kennel  in  one  of  the  foulest  streets  of  that  city. 
When  the  ladies  came  to  the  carriage  and  got  in,  I  said, '  Stop, 
don't  shut  that  door !  Look  there  at  that  half-starved,  ragged, 
miserable  wretch,  shivering  in  the  cold  and  in  the  dim  gas- 
light !  Look  at  him  ! '  The  ring  of  that  audience  was  in  my 
ears,  my  hands  aching  with  the  grasp  of  friendship  from  scores, 
my  surroundings  bright,  my  prospects  pleasant,  and  I  said, 
'  Ladies,  look  there !  There  am  I,  but  for  the  temperance 
movement!  That  man  worked  with  me,  roomed  with  me, 
slept  with  me,  was  a  better  workman  than  I,  his  prospects 
brighter  than  mine.  A  kind  hand  was  laid  on  my  shoulder,  in 
the  Worcester  street,  in  1842;  it  was  the  turning-point  in  my 
history.  He  went  on.  Seventeen  years  have  passed,  and  we 
meet  again,  with  a  gulf  as  deep  as  hell  between  us  ! '  I  am  a 
trophy  of  this  movement,  and  I  thank  God  for  it."  ' 

Mr.  Gough  spoke  in  all  the  more  important  towns 
in  England  and  Scotland;  he  and  Mary  putting  such 
intervals  of  leisure  as  they  had  into  sight-seeing. 


1  Speech  on  "  Drinking  Usages  of  Society.' 


HERE,  THERE,  YONDER,  IN  THE  BRITISH  ISLES.       l6l 

Temperance  in  Great  Britain,  in  1853-4,  was  where 
it  had  been  in  America  when  Gough  signed  the 
pledge.  Drinking  was  fashionable.  Total  abstinence 
was  fanaticism.  The  Churches,  as  a  rule,  were  on  the 
wrong  side.  The  clergy  defended  drinking  out  of 
the  Bible.  It  was  impossible  to  get  churches  to 
lecture  in,  or  clergymen  of  repute  to  preside  at  tem- 
perance meetings.  Oftener  than  otherwise,  those 
who  entertained  Mr  Gough  had  liquor  on  the  table, 
or  if  not,  bunglingly  apologized  to  the  other  guests 
for  its  absence  as  due  to  his  "  prejudice."  There 
were  many  splendid  exponents  of  the  cause,  like  John 
Bright  and  Joseph  Sturge  and  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury. 
But,  though  many  by  actual  count,  they  were  rela- 
tively few.  Temperance  sentiment  was  confined  to 
the  middle  classes — the  upper  and  lower  ignored  it. 

The  pledge,  the  great  weapon  of  the  temperance 
movement,  was  sharply  and  constantly  attacked  as 
"  unmanly" — "a  strait-jacket  " — "  fatal  to  self-respect  " 
— and  "  destructive  to  character." 

It  was  easy  to  show  that  the  temperance  pledge 
rests  upon  precisely  the  same  philosophical  basis  as 
any  and  every  other  sacred  promise — that  all  the 
transactions  of  civil  society  rest  ultimately  upon  a 
pledge.  In  marriage  the  bride  and  groom  promise 
to  love,  cherish,  and  honor  one  another — a  pledge. 
On  uniting  with  the  Church  the  member  enters  into  a 
covenant — a  pledge.  When  he  goes  on  the  stand  a 
witness  in  court  swears  to  tell  the  truth — a  pledge 
The  grantor  in  a  deed  pledges  himself  by  record. 
The  funds  of  universities  and  libraries  and  charitable 
organizations  are  held  under  a  pledge — a  solemn 
promise  to  administer  them  in  certain  designated 
ii 


162  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

ways.  Do  pledges  of  these  kinds  undermine  char- 
acter ?  If  not,  then  why  does  a  pledge  to  abstain 
from  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquor  as  a  beverage  ? 
Instead  of  undermining  character,  it  rebuilds  it  and 
fortifies  it,  as  hundreds  of  thousands  can  testify — re- 
constructs it  as  Nehemiah  did  the  ruined  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  in  spite  of  the  scoffs  of  Tobiah  and 
Sanballat. 

Mr.  Gough  thought  the  temperance  cause  at  that 
time  better  organized  in  Great  Britain  than  in 
America,  and  believed  it  to  be  on  a  more  permanent 
basis.  With  reference  to  the  societies  then  existing, 
he  remarks  : 

"  No  one  who  attends  their  annual  meetings,  their  festivals, 
their  weekly  assemblies, — can  fail  to  he  impressed  by  their 
earnestness,  and  I  may  say  their  pertinacity  in  carrying  out  the 
objects  for  which  they  are  organized.  Their  boards  of  man- 
agers and  standing  committees  are  thorough,  working  men,  who 
not  only  sympathize  with  temperance,  but  make  it  a  special 
business  to  attend  to  the  interests  of  the  movement.  I  have 
been  edified  by  the  earnestness  manifested  at  their  business 
meetings,  when  I  was  privileged  to  attend  them,  and  the  care- 
fulness with  which  they  deal  with  minute  details,  as  well  as 
the  broader  operations  of  their  societies, — the  patience  with 
which  they  master  difficulties,  and  their  self-denying  efforts  to 
achieve  the  greatest  good  effectually.  There  is,  to  be  sure, 
some  formality  in  the  proceedings — especially  in  their  public 
meetings — strange  to  us  in  America,  and  to  some  annoying ; 
yet  even  this  has  its  advantages ;  they  make  the  business  a 
serious  and  earnest  one,  and  the  very  formality,  in  a  certain 
sense,  gives  the  proceedings  a  greater  stability  than  if  their 
arrangements  were  all  carried  on  at  loose  ends."  ' 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  331,  332. 


HERE,  THERE,  YONDER,  IN  THE  BRITISH  ISLES.       163 

The  sojourner  was  charmed  with  the  hospitality  of 
the  people.  He  got  an  inside  view  of  their  domestic 
life,  warm,  pure,  sweet ;  and  discovered  that  they 
could  not  do  enough  for  those  whom  they  iidmitted 
to  their  firesides.  The  very  children  were  kindly. 
He  says  : 

"  One  day,  when  strolling  through  Edinburgh,  I  saw  a  group 
of  young  girls  standing  in  front  of  their  school  in  the  Canon- 
gate,  looking  toward  me  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
Soon  they  crossed  and  walked  near  me.  One  of  them  said  very 
modestly : 

" '  Mr.  Gough  ha'e  ye  ony  objection  to  us  lassies  walking  wi' 
ye?' 

"  'Oh,  no,'  I  responded,  'indeed  I  have  not.' 

"'We've  heerd  ye  speak  in  the  Music  Hall,  an'  we're  a'  tee- 
totalers.' 

"  Presently  they  reached  the  hotel  where  Mr.  Gough  was 
quartered.  Here  one  said  : 

'"We'll  ye  ha'e  ony  objections  to  shakin'  hands  wi'  us 
lassies  ? ' 

"  As  I  took  their  hands,  I  heard  in  that  sweet,  low  Scotch 
tone : 

" '  Ye'll  soon  be  gangin*  awa'  f  rae  Edinburgh,  and  we'll  "weary 
for  ye  to  come  back  again.  Gude-bye  to  ye.' "  J 

Opportunities  for  special  work  sometimes  presented 
themselves — as  in  addressing  children,  ladies,  soldiers, 
and  students — all  eagerly  embraced.  In  the  gray  and 
mossy  old  university  town  of  Oxford,  the  speaker  had 
a  sharp  bout  with  the  students  who  thronged  the  hall, 
and  who  came  for  fun.  For  a  time  he  was  hard 
pushed  ;  but  eventually  he  conquered  them  by  his 
good  humor  and  evident  enjoyment  of  the  racket — 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  335,  336. 


164  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

they  let  him  conclude  in  peace.  A  farewell/^  was 
held  in  honor  of  Mr.  Gough,  in  the  grounds  of  the  his- 
toric "  Hartwell  House,"  near  London,  on  the  25th  of 
July,  1855.  The  enthusiam  was  great,  the  sorrow  over 
his  impending  departure  was  loud,  and  the  temper- 
ance leaders  and  masses  were  assembled  in  vast  num- 
bers— Horace  Greeley  (then  in  Europe)  being  present 
as  an  invited  guest.  Good-bye  speeches  were  made 
and  suitably  answered  ;  and,  loaded  down  with  a 
massive  dinner-service  for  eighteen  of  pure  silver, 
presented  at  the/^,  and  with  numerous  other  sou- 
venirs— Bibles,  silver  ink-stands,  superb  clocks,  silver 
pitchers  ;  each  one  significant  of  some  particular  ex- 
perience ;  the  spoils,  not  of  war  but  of  love — John 
an  i  Mary  Gough  embarked  for  home  in  August,  1855. 

t  was  the  testimony  of  all  that  Mr.  Gough's  pres- 
ence and  advocacy  had  set  the  temperance  reform 

ward  in  Great  Britain  beyond  precedent.  As  for 
hi  nself,  we  quote  and  adopt  the  language  of  Lyman 

bott : 

'  We  doubt  whether  modern  history  records  any 
case  of  an  oratorical  triumph  more  continuous  and 
more  extraordinary.  Whitefield  had  the  many-sided 
subject  of  religion,  Mr.  Gough  but  the  one  theme  of 
temperance.  Mr.  Beecher's  famous  English  speeches 
during  the  Civil  War  are  unparalleled  in  the  history 
of  oratory  ;  but  these  were  but  six,  and  Mr.  Gough 
spoke  almost  continuously  for  two  years"1 — between 
four  and  five  hundred  times  in  all  !  And  the  eager- 
ness to  hear  him  was  greater  at  the  close  than  at  the 
start.  He  only  got  away  at  last  by  promising  to  re- 


1  Introduction  to  "  Platform  Echoes." 


HERE,  THERE,  YONDER,  IN  THE  BRITISH  ISLES.       165 

turn  again  in  two  years  for  another  long  campaign 
in  the  British  Isles. 

Notwithstanding  these  unprecedented  labors,  and 
the  exposure  and  excitement  accompanying  them,  his 
health  was  good — better  when  he  sailed  for  home 
than  when  he  went  out. 


PART  VII. 

At  Work  in  America  Again 


"  Look  up,  not  down;  look  out,  not  in; 
and  —  lend  a  hand!" 

—  EDWARD  EVERETT  HALE. 


I. 

"WESTWARD  THE  COURSE   OF  EMPIRE  TAKE  ITS  WAY." 

DEAR  "  Hillside ! "  how  good  it  seemed  to  this 
"  absentee  landlord  "  to  be  at  home  again.  Even  the 
"Yankee  twang "  and  the  familiar  "I  guess,"  and 
"  wal  "  were  like  the  tones  of  old  friends.  Six  restful 
weeks  were  passed  in  the  lap  of  idleness.  Then  the 
trumpet  sounded  for  battle,  and  the  fray  began. 

Mr.Gough's  British  reputation,  reechoed  to  America. 
His  services  were  in  greater  demand  than  ever.  Each 
mail  brought  him  urgent  invitations  from  all  quarters. 
He  had  never  visited  the  great  Northwest.  He  deter- 
mined to  do  so  now,  the  way  having  opened.  At 
Philadelphia,  on  the  4th  of  October,  1855,  he  opened 
the  season.  That  month  was  devoted  for  the  most 
part  to  the  State  of  New  York.  November  was  given 
to  New  England.  On  the  yth  of  December,  he  spoke 
in  Chicago,  for  the  first  time. 

The  census  now  shows  a  population  of  1,600,000  in 
Chicago.  The  giant  is  25  miles  tall  (along  the  lake, 
from  north  to  south),  with  a  depth  of  chest  10  miles 
deep  (from  the  lake  westward).  Its  head  is  cooled  by 
the  breezes  of  the  north,  charged  with  ozone.  Its 
feet  are  planted  broad  and  flat  on  the  prairies,  to  the 
south.  Its  hands  are  busy  with  multifarious  commer- 
cial manipulations.  Its  pockets  are  stuffed  with  mer- 
chandise, and  its  cheek  is  —  words  fail  ! 


170  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

With  prophetic  vision,  Mr.  Gough  foresaw  the 
future  in  the  past.  Writing  from  Chicago  at  the  date 
referred  to,  he  said  :  "  I  found  a  population  of  more 
than  100,000;  I  have  often  wished  that  I  could  have 
labored  there,  and  been  identified,  by  my  work,  with 
the  infancy  of  what  is  destined  to  be  a  giant  among 
the  cities  of  the  world." 

In  the  same  connection  he  writes  : 

"  This  being-  my  first  view  of  the  Northwest,  my  impressions 
were  those  of  wonder,  almost  amounting  to  awe,  at  the  vast 
resources  and  the  certain  improvement  and  power  of  that  sec- 
tion. I  leave  it  for  others,  who  are  able  to  write  of  its  destiny  ; 
prophets  all,  and  true,  when  they  tell  of  its  progress  and  swift- 
coming  magnificence — for  it  grows  before  our  eyes  almost 
passing  belief,  and  will  grow  year  by  year.  Every  Christian 
must  look  at  the  West  with  interest  and  deep  anxiety  for  the 
enlightenment  of  the  Western  mind,  and  the  establishment  of 
the  principles  of  a  pure  Christianity.  West  of  the  Mississippi 
what  a  domain  is  rapidly  coming  into  settlement  and  cultivation! 
What  millions  must  soon  occupy  the  vast  territory  !  It  is  for 
Christians  to  decide  whether  these  fertile  lands  shall  be  over- 
run with  heathenism  and  infidelity,  or  be  flooded  with  the  light 
of  Christian  education.  The  field  is  immense — the  opposing 
elements  to  good  are  powerful,  the  god  of  this  world  is  mar- 
shaling his  forces  to  '  go  up  and  possess  the  land.'  But  if  all 
who  love  righteousness  will  in  Christ's  name  set  up  their  ban- 
ners, and  come  to  the  '  help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty.' 
the  issues  of  the  conflict  are  sure  ;  for  '  greater  is  He  that  is  for 
us  than  all  they  that  be  against  us.'  We  may  thus  cooperate 
with  God  and  holy  angels  in  preventing  sin,  and  in  establishing 
His  Kingdom  in  this  great  gathering- place  of  the  nations. 
Men  and  women  are  laboring  for  this,  full  of  faith.  May  our 
God  speed  their  efforts  ! "  ' 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  382,  383. 


WESTWARD    THE    COURSE    OF    EMPIRE,"    ETC.         I?! 

Mr.  Gough  gave  seven  lectures  in  Chicago  ;  one 
each  in  Elgin,  Milwaukee,  Waukegan,  Bloomington, 
Springfield,  Alton;  and  then  took  the  cars  for  St.  Louis 
(also  a  first  visit),  where  he  lectured  six  times. 

Returning  to  the  East,  he  resumed  work  in  New 
York,  New  Jersey,  Connecticut,  Rhode  Island,  New 
Hampshire,  and  Maine,  besides  speaking  in  all  the 
large  cities  of  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  It  was  not 
until  June  2d  that  he  unbuckled  the  harness  to  enjoy 
a  well-earned  vacation  at  "  Hillside." 

When  at  home  Mr.  Gough  usually  attended  church 
at  Boylston.  Worcester  was  conveniently  near,  but 
he  felt  that  Boylston  needed  him.  During  the  sum- 
mer of  1855,  the  church  there  was  without  a  pastor. 
He  acted,  ad  interim,  as  pulpit  supply,  Sunday-school 
superintendent,  sexton,  and  parson.  Calling  to  his 
aid  influential  clerical  friends,  he  agreed  to  "  board 
and  lodge  them  "  if  they  would  preach  on  designated 
Sundays.  These  offers  were  accepted,  and  Dr.  Kirk 
(his  Boston  pastor),  Dr.  T.  L.  Cuyler,  Dr.  Dutton,  and 
Dr.  George  Gould  were  successively  heard  in  the 
Boylston  pulpit.  Between  himself  and  Dr.  Gould  an 
intimacy  sprang  up  like  that  between  David  and 
Jonathan — they  were  inseparable.  A  revival  marked 
these  Boylston  labors,  and  -the  feeble  country  church 
was  recruited  and  refreshed. 

The  idleness  of  an  earnest  man  is  fruitful.  Rest 
comes  from  change.  Mr.  Gough,  like  Wesley,  was 
"  always  at  it." 


II. 


THE    TIDE    IS   OUT. 

DURING  the  decade  of  1855-65,  in  the  United  States, 
temperance  touched  the  low-water  mark.  The  tide 
was  out — away  out.  Those  Southern  States  which,  a 
few  years  earlier,  had  adopted  prohibition,  seceded. 
In  Maine  itself  the  law,  immortalized  by  its  name, 
was  repealed  (in  1856),  and  superseded  by  license — 
as  old  as  history,  and  as  infirm  as  .its  age  would  indi- 
cate! The  five  other  New  England  States  retained 
the  statute,  but  indifferently  and  spasmodically 
enforced  it.  In  New  York,  rum-made  and  rum-paid 
judges  declared  the  prohibitory  law  unconstitutional, 
and  thus  made  dram-selling  and  drunkenness  legal 
and  equitable.  This  was  the  epoch  of  reaction. 

There  were  three  causes.  For  one  thing,  "  no 
special  moral  reform  agitation,"  as  a  philosophical 
observer  remarks,  "  can  be  kept  alive  for  an  indefinite 
period.  The  public  weary  of  it.  They  will  not  go 
to  hear  repeated  for  the  fortieth  time  arguments 
whose  conclusions  they  anticipate  before  they  enter 
the  hall,  or  experiences  portrayed  with  which  lectures 
and  literature  have  already  made  them  familiar." 

In  the  next  place,  this  inevitable  falling  away  of 
interest  seriously  affected  the  temperance  propaganda. 


THE    TIDE    IS   OUT.  173 

Public  opinion  was  not  made  and  inflamed  as  at  the 
start. 

Thirdly,  and  most  important  of  all,  the  country 
was  now  preoccupied  with  another  issue — newer — 
more  angry — involving  sectional  feeling,  interest, 
power — more  clamorous — more  hysterical,  viz.,  the 
question  of  slavery,  soon  transferred  from  the  forum 
to  the  battle-field,  and  debated  with  cannon-balls  and 
grape-shot  and  bayonet  charges  for  arguments;  and 
with  wounds,  suffering,  and  death  for  practical  ap- 
plications, rhetorical  pauses,  and  punctuation  marks. 
The  constitution  of  the  human  mind  is  such  that  it  is 
impossible  to  interest  it  equally  and  contempora- 
neously in  two  exciting  and  absorbing  questions.  The 
present  was  what  Wendell  Phillips  called  "the  negro's 
hour."  Temperance  was  temporarily  crowded  into 
the  background.  The  Civil  War,  in  preparation  or 
in  operation,  concentrated  the  thoughts  and  energies 
of  the  continent  upon  itself. 

Mr.  Gough  was  a  close  and  accurate  observer,  as  we 
have  discovered.  He  was  in  constant  motion,  so  that 
he  knew  the  condition  of  affairs  not  only  in  localities 
but  throughout  the  Union.  And  he  was  in  close 
touch  with  prominent  men  everywhere — the  men  who 
make  and  reflect  popular  sentiment.  Of  course,  such 
a  man  would  speedily  detect  this  lukewarmness, 
affecting  as  it  did  the  cause  to  which  his  life  was  de- 
voted, and  visible  as  it  was  across  the  whole  field  of 
action.  His  spirit  was  apprehensive.  His  heart  was 
heavy.  He  regretted  his  impending  departure,  feel- 
ing that  he  was  needed  at  home.  But  he  had  signed 
an  agreement  before  leaving  for  America  to  return  to 
Great  Britain  in  two  years  and  give  three  years  to 


174  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  cause  over  there  on  the  same  terms  as  in  1853-4-5. 
His  engagements  were  with  the  London  Temperance 
League,  and  the  Scottish  Temperance  League.  The 
headquarters  of  the  first  were  in  London;  of  the 
second  in  Glasgow.  But  before  Mr.  Gough's  second 
visit,  the  two  were  consolidated  in  "  The  National  and 
Scottish  Temperance  League"  (in  1856). 

At  this  juncture,  Neal  Dow,  the  author  of  the  Maine 
Law,  one  of  the  historic  names  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, went  to  England  to  labor  for  prohibition  in 
connection  with  the  "  United  Kingdom  Alliance," 
which  was  organized,  in  1853,  "  to  promote  the  total 
and  immediate  legislative  suppression  of  the  traffic  in 
all  intoxicating  liquors  as  beverages."  With  this  pro- 
gramme, Mr.  Dow  was  in  full  accord.  He  was  iden- 
tified with  it  in  and  through  the  Maine  Law;  which 
prohibited  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  intoxicating 
liquor,  except  by  specially  appointed  or  permitted 
agents,  selling  for  excepted  purposes  only,  with  pro- 
vision for  search,  seizure,  and  forfeiture  of  liquors  kept 
for  illegal  disposition. 

When  Mr.  Gough  heard  that  Neal  Dow  was  going 
abroad  in  1856,  he  said: 

"  I  am  sorry  he  is  going  this  year,  for  I  earnestly  desire  that 
his  work  there  may  be  successful,  and  the  English  critics  who 
are  opposed  to  the  law  will  say  he  has  come  to  represent  a 
failure,  for  the  law  is  not  now  on  the  statute-books  of  his  own 
State.  If  he  would  wait  till  it  shall  be  reenacted  with  more 
stringent  provisions,  as  it  is  sure  to  be,  then,  on  the  wave  of  a 
glorious  success,  his  mission  there  would  be  doubly  effective 
in  aiding  the  friends  to  establish  prohibition  in  Great  Britain."  ' 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  393. 


THE    TIDE    IS   OUT.  175 

On  the  23d  of  March,  1856,  Mr.  Gough  wrote  to 
his  friend  G.  C.  Campbell  in  England: 

"  The  cause  in  this  country  is  in  a  depressed  state ;  the 
Maine  Law  is  a  dead  letter  everywhere — more  liquor  sold  than 
I  ever  knew  before,  in  Massachusetts, — and  in  other  States  it 
is  about  as  bad.  Were  it  not  that  I  feel  desirous  of  laboring 
with  you  again,  I  should  be  inclined  to  ask  for  the  loan  of 
another  year  to  labor  here.  I  never  had  so  many  earnest  appli- 
cations for  labor,  and  the  field  is  truly  ready, — not  for  the  sickle, 
but  for  steady,  persevering  tillage;  but  we  shall  leave  our  dear 
home  in  July,  with  the  expectation  of  laboring  with  you,  as  far 
as  health  and  strength  will  permit,  for  the  next  three  years. 
.  .  .  I  see  Neal  Dow  is  in  England.  I  am  glad.  You  will 
all  like  him  ;  he  is  a  noble  man — a  faithful  worker.  He  can 
tell  better  than  any  other  man,  the  state  of  the  Maine-Law  move- 
ment here,  and  the  cause  of  the  universal  failure  of  the  law  to 
produce  the  desired  results."1 

This  was  a  personal  letter,  not  intended  for  publi- 
cation. But  as  it  recited  certain  facts  which  were  of 
public  concern,  Mr.  Campbell  naturally  and  properly 
published  it.  Knowing  the  heated  state  of  feeling 
existing  at  the  time  between  the  moral-suasion  and 
the  Maine-Law  wings  of  the  temperance  forces,  here 
and  abroad,  Mr.  Gough  regretted  the  publication, 
and  remarked  to  his  wife,  when  she  showed  him  a 
copy  of  the  British  Weekly  Record  containing  it.  "  I 
can  see  how  it  may  make  trouble,  but  I  hope  it  will 
not."' 

This  hope  was  not  fulfilled.  It  did  make  trouble, 
with  a  vengeance.  The  temperance  press  of  Great 
Britain  at  once  took  sides.  The  American  reformer 
was  attacked  with  surprising  bitterness,  with  per- 


J  "Autobiography,"  p.  392.     J  "  Autobiography,"  p.  394. 


176  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

sonal  malignity,  for  this  expression  of  opinion.  He 
was  defended  with  equal  warmth.  And  that  saddest 
of  all  controversies,  one  between  co-laborers  in  a 
common  cause,  but  divided  into  warring  camps  by 
differences  regarding  facts  or  methods — clawed  and 
clamored,  as  though  bedlam  had  broken  loose.  It 
was  charged  that  Mr.  Gough  was  "  reckless  " — that 
he  was  "prone  to  sweeping  exaggerations  " — that  he 
was  "  not  an  honest  prohibitionist  nor  an  honest 
man  " — that  he  was  "  subject  to  fits  of  the  '  blues,'  and 
had  written  this  letter  while  under  the  influence  of 
this  malady" — that  he  "still  drank,  and  took  nar- 
cotics " — and  so  on  to  the  end  of  a  devil's  chapter  of 
rancor. 

As  he  moved  about  the  country,  the  lecturer  took 
care  to  collect  facts  which  corroborated  his  state- 
ments. These  he  forwarded  to  his  friends  and  de- 
fenders in  Britain — thus  adding  fuel  to  the  fire. 

The  winter  of  1856-57  he  passed  in  the  West.  He 
spoke  many  times  in  many  places — Chicago,  Indiana- 
polis, Cincinnati,  Cleveland,  Columbus,  among  the 
rest.  In  the  spring  of  1857,  a  farewell  trip  was  taken. 
Great  assemblies  everywhere  rallied  to  say  "  Good 
bye,"  notably  at  Philadelphia,  in  the  Academy  of 
Music,  on  the  2ist  of  May,  and  at  New  Haven  a 
month  later.  These  were  attended  by  the  best  and 
most  representative  men  and  women.  On  the  2d  of 
July,  a  farewell  picnic  was  held  in  a  grove  near  "  Hill- 
side," where  and  when  neighbors  said,  ban  voyage. 
On  the  Qth  inst.,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gough  sailed  from 
Boston,  in  the  Niagara,  accompanied  by  a  party  of 
intimates,  including  Dr.  Gould — to  be  gone  three 
years. 


PART  VIII. 

The  Second  British  Tour 


1  A  good  conscience  is  to  the  soul  what  health 
is  to  the  body :  it  preserves  a  constant  ease 
and  serenity  within  us,  and  more  than  counter- 
vails all  the  calamities  and  afflictions  which 
can  possibly  befall  us.  I  know  nothing  so 
hard  for  a  generous  mind  to  get  over  as  cal- 
umny and  reproach,  and  cannot  find  any 
method  of  quieting  the  soul  under  them, 
besides  this  single  one,  of  our  being  conscious 
to  ourselves  that  we  do  not  deserve  them." 

—  ADDISON,  The  Guardian,  No.  135. 


12 


THE    COURT    OF    EXCHEQUER. 

THE  Niagara  dropped  anchor  in  the  Mersey  on  the 
26th  of  July,  1857.  The  "  Yankees "  were  met  and 
escorted  ashore  by  a  large  party  of  waiting  well- 
wishers,  who  saw  their  guests  comfortably  bestowed 
before  they  withdrew. 

Mr.  Gough  instantly  found  himself  the  movable 
center  of  a  circumference  of  personal  detraction. 
Whenever,  wherever  he  moved,  it  moved.  Across 
the  blazing  borders  of  it  he  could  not  leap.  All  that 
was  weak  in  his  intemperate  past  was  deepened  into 
wickedness;  all  that  was  wicked  was  exaggerated  into 
unpardonable  sin.  His  reformation  was  denied.  It 
was  charged  that  he  was  worse  now  than  then;  for 
now  he  was  a  sinner  masquerading  as  a  saint. 

All  these  reproaches  came  from  the  Pandora's  box 
of  that  unfortunate  letter  to  Mr.  Campbell.  The 
legal-suasian  party  in  Great  Britain  chose  to  inter- 
pret the  innocent  missive  as  an  affront  to  their  policy. 
The  orator  was  under  contract  to  serve  the  interests 
of  the  moral  suasionists-«-which  added  to  the  offense, 
since  his  popularity  gave  prestige  to  their  rivals.  The 
ill  will  and  bad  blood  between  the  two  temperance 
camps  amazes  the  observer  who  looks  back  from  the 
serene  heights  of  distance  and  time.  But  it  is  clear 


l8o  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

that  a  determined  effort  was  made  to  blacken  the 
character  and  thus  destroy  the  influence  of  John  B. 
Gough  in  the  first  year  of  his  second  British  tour — 
all  on  account  of  his  identification  with  one  of  the 
two  then  opposing  schools  of  temperance  thought  and 
action. 

No,  not  all  on  this  account:  because  personal 
jealousies  and  petty  spites,  born  of  unsuccessful  com- 
petitioi  played  a  part  in  the  farce-tragedy. 

Or  the  day  after  landing  in  Liverpool,  Mr.  Gough 
addressed  a  large  meeting  in  Queen  Street  Hall. 
He  spoke  nearly  three  hours,  and  in  a  vein  of  unusual 
seriousness  and  philosophy.  Replying  to  the  current 
criticism,  he  protested  against  the  vituperation  he 
had  received  because  of  the  expression  of  his  opinion; 
confirmed  that  opinion  by  documentary  evidence  ; 
paid  a  feeling  tribute  to  "  his  noble  friend  and 
coadjutor,"  Neal  Dow,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  the 
war  between  friends  might  stop — or  be  transferred 
into  the  country  of  the  common  foe.  A  resolution 
was  passed,  with  substantial  unanimity,  at  the  close 
of  these  remarks,  expressing  satisfaction  with  Mr. 
Gough's  statement  and  confidence  in  his  character. 
With  this  resolution  in  his  pocket,  and  the  contro- 
versy quieted  (as  he  hoped),  he  went  up  to  London, 
and  took  possession  of  his  old  quarters,  at  No.  32 
Norfolk  street,  Strand,  down  by  the  Thames  Embank- 
ment, in  one  of  the  busiest  parts  of  the  city.  His 
engagements  called  for  four  months'  work  in  Scot- 
land and  eight  in  England  for  three  years.  But  a 
week  or  more  was  given  to  breakfasts  and  fetes  before 
the  campaign  opened. 

George  Cruikshank  entertained  the  American  on 


THE    COURT    OF    EXCHEQUER.  l8l 

one  of  these  occasions.  George  had  a  brother 
Robert,  also  an  artist,  so  that  the  two  were  often  con- 
fused. At  about  the  time  of  this  visit  an  English 
review  had  discussed  the  relative  merits  of  the  two 
brothers,  reaching  the  conclusion  (which  posterity 
has  also  come  to)  that  "  George  was  the  real  Simon 
Pure."  Soon  after,  a  German  wrote  a  sketch  of 
George  Cruikshank  for  a  German  encyclopaedia,  in 
which  he  informed  his  readers  that  the  subject  of  the 
memoir  was  an  artist  whose  real  name  was  Simon 
Pure,  and  in  the  index  he  wrote  :  "  Pure,  Simon — the 
real  name  of  George  Cruikshank."  Mr.  Gough  never 
tired  of  laughing  with  and  at  his  friend  over  this 
mistake,  nor  of  telling  the  story  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic. 

On  the  25th  of  August,  Exeter  Hall  again  wel- 
comed the  "Yankee  " — as  he  had  been  dubbed  by  his 
enemies,  with  a  view,  no  doubt,  to  enlist  national 
prejudice  against  the  too-popular  English-American. 
Thence,  via  Manchester  and  Preston,  where  large 
meetings  were  held,  the  travelers  journeyed  to  Edin- 
burgh. 

Here  a  flat  was  rented;  because  the  Goughs  desired 
at  least  the  semblance  of  a  home  while  sojourning  in 
"  the  land  o*  cakes  an'  ale."  From  this  convenient  cen- 
ter, they  circled  out  through  Scotland,  making  their 
orbit  take  in  the  Orkney  Islands — treeless,  wind- 
swept, barren,  cold,  shrouded  in  mist  of  heaven  and 
mist  of  sea. 

In  January,  1858,  they  removed  to  London  and 
began  the  English  itinerary.  They  did  in  the  South 
as  they  had  done  in  the  North — rented  furnished 
apartments,  and  played  at  keeping  house.  Up  and 


182  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

down,  went  the  lecturer,  informing  and  reforming 
multitudes,  his  comings  and  goings  like  a  royal  prog- 
ress. 

But  during  all  these  months  the  pitiless  deluge  of 
slander  continued  to  beat  down  upon  him;  compared 
with  this,  the  American  abuse  was  as  a  passing  sum- 
mer shower  in  contrast  with  the  rainy  season  in  the 
tropics. 

While  in  Scotland,  an  English  associate,  Mr.  William 
Wilson,  of  Sherwood  Hall,  wrote  Mr.  Gough,  stating 
that  a  prominent  man  had,  in  private  correspondence, 
formulated  specific  charges  against  him.  What  were 
they? 

"  Your  friend  St.  Bartholomew  has  often  been  seen 
narcotically  and  helplessly  intoxicated.  I  believe  him 
to  be  as  rank  a  hypocrite  and  as  wretched  a  man  as 
breathes  in  the  Queen's  domains."  Such  were  the 
alleged  offenses,  which  the  writer  asserted  he  could 
prove  by  scores  of  witnesses.  He  challenged  the 
"  Yankee  "  to  sue  him  for  libel,  and  thus  bring  the 
question  before  an  English  jury. 

Mf.  Gough  demanded,  and  finally  got,  the  name  of 
this.'  libeler.  It  was  F.  R.  Lees,  Ph.D.,  a  repre- 
xsendative  and  lecturer  of  the  United  Kingdom 


Dr.  Lees  did  not  stop  here.  He  dredged  the  sewers 
of  slander  in  the  United  States,  and  imported  the  offal 
thus  collected;  he  wrote  to  those  who  entertained  Mr. 
Gough  and  asked  these  hosts  to  put  their  guest  under 
espionage  ;  and  he  hired  and  sent  out  lecturers  to 
"expose  "  the  "  Yankee." 

What  was  Dr.  Lee's  motive  ?  Nominally,  it  was  the 
vindication  of  a  friend  named  Peter  Sinclair,  who  had 


THE    COURT    OF    EXCHEQUER.  183 

been  sharply  criticised  in  America,  when  he  was  there 
lecturing,  and  in  Scotland,  where  he  had  been  at  work 
for  temperance.  Dr.  Lees,  without  any  proof,  and 
against  the  truth,  assumed  that  Mr.  Gough  had  in- 
spired their  criticisms,  and  hence  threatened  him  with 
exposure  unless  he  should  apologize  for  and  with- 
draw statements  he  never  made.  The  real  motive 
was,  no  doubt,  a  mixed  one — the  spite  of  a  clever  lec- 
turer overshadowed  by  a  greater  one,  and  intense  par- 
tisanship. 

The  "  Yankee  "  accepted  the  challenge  of  Dr.  Lees. 
Suit  was  brought  in  the  Court  of  Exchequer,  before 
Baron  Martin.  The  case  was  tried  in  June,  1858,  Mr. 
Gough  took  the  stand.  He  testified  that,  since  the 
episode  of  the  drugged  soda-water  in  1845,  ne  had 
never  tasted  spirituous  liquors  of  any  kind;  had  never 
bought  or  eaten  opium  in  any  form,  saving  on  that 
occasion,  before  he  signed  the  pledge,  when  he  con- 
templated suicide  by  swallowing  laudanum;  that  he 
knew  nothing  about  the  articles  reflecting  upon  Peter 
Sinclair;  and  that  he  had  with  him  several  memo- 
randum-books which  would  show  his  whereabouts 
and  condition  during  every  day  of  the  interval  in 
question. 

Here  the  plaintiff's  attorney  rested.  It  was  now  the 
turn  of  the  counsel  for  the  defendant  to  cross-examine 
the  witness.  He  rose.  He  retracted  the  charges. 
He  consented  to  a  verdict  for  the  plaintiff — with  nom- 
inal damages,  because  Mr.  Gough  wanted  not  money, 
but  a  legal  vindication. 

Dr.  Lees,  a  day  or  two  later,  repudiated  the  conduct 
of  his  counsel  in  this  disposition  of  the  case,  which 
drew  forth  from  his  leading  lawyer  a  letter,  in  which 


184  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

he  confessed  that  there  was  nothing  else  to  do — that 
his  client  was  present  in  court  and  consented  to  the 
action  taken,  and  had  no  evidence  at  all  to  substan- 
tiate his  charges. 

What  shall  be  thought  of  a  libeler  who  does  not 
provide  himself  with  evidence  before  he  begins  to 
utter  the  libel  ? 

It  has  been  shrewdly  surmised  that  what  really 
frightened  off  the  defense  in  the  famous  case  of 
Gough  vs.  Lees,  was  the  fact  that  the  plaintiff  had 
with  him  in  court  those  memorandum-books,  which 
traced  his  life  from  day  to  day  and  place  to  place, 
with  dates  and  witnesses  of  his  state  set  down  in  black 
and  white.  Lyman  Abbott,  in  referring  to  the  matter, 
says:  "  From  that  day  to  Mr.  Gough's  death,  slander 
against  his  good  name  never  rose  above  a  whisper. 
Neither  envy,  malice,  nor  even  partisanship  dared 
face  that  diary."  ' 

Mr.  Gough  felt  this  abuse  keenly.  "  It  was  a  terri- 
ble ordeal,"  he  writes;  "  they  intended  that  I  should 
suffer,  and  I  did;  and,  if  it  is  any  consolation  for  them 
to  know  that  they  caused  me  and  mine  such  pain  as  I 
would  not  inflict  on  the  meanest  of  God's  creatures, 
I  give  them  the  information  here.  Still,  through  all 
this,  I  did  not  miss  an  appointment,  but  kept  steadily 
at  work."" 

Had  he  been  less  sensitive  and  more  worldly-wise, 
the  orator,  living  upon  publicity,  would  have  gotten 
comfort  from  the  reflection  that  his  enemies  were  giv- 
ing him  free  advertisement.  For  months  his  name 


1  Introduction  to  "  Platform  Echoes,"  p.  63. 
"  Autobiography,"  p.  403. 


THE    COURT    OF    EXCHEQUER.  185 

was  in  every  journal  and  on  all  lips  on  both  sides  of  the 
water.  The  daily  press  behaved  admirably.  Scurril- 
ous matter,  offered  in  abundance  was  rejected.  The 
actual  facts  were  speedily  detected  and  published. 
Editors  took  up  the  cudgels  for  Mr.  Gough;  and  Dr. 
Lees,  et.  al.,  were  belabored  as  lustily  as  though  all 
the  parties  were  engaged  in  a  shindy  at  "  Donnybrook 
Fair."  Excepting  when  animated  by  political  passion 
or  interest,  the  newspapers  of  England  and  America, 
alike,  may  be  relied  upon  in  every  case  to  secure  fair- 
play  and  announce  righteous  judgment. 


II. 

CONTINENTAL    GLIMPSES. 

LEAVING  the  Court  of  Exchequer  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  Mr.  Gough  resumed  work,  and  divided  the 
autumn  and  winter  of  1858-59,  and  the  ensuing 
spring  and  early  summer,  according  to  agreement, 
between  England  and  Scotland.  So  far  from  injur- 
ing him,  the  assaults  upon  his  character,  now  banned 
by  an  acquittal  in  open  court,  served  but  to  increase 
his  audiences  and  animate  his  friends.  He  became 
the  hero  of  the  hour;  a  position  which  his  modesty 
enabled  him  to  hold  without  growing  dizzy  with  con- 
ceit. Small  men  look  smaller  on  a  pedestal  ;  great 
men  need  one. 

The  long  strain,  however,  told  upon  him.  He  re- 
solved to  take  a  vacation,  and  to  spend  it  on  the  Con- 
tinent. With  his  wife  and  a  small  party  of  relatives 
and  friends,  he  left  London  on  the  226.  of  July,  1859, 
for  Paris,  where  he  arrived  after  a  pleasant  run  of 
eleven  hours. 

Mr.  Gough  did  not  like  Paris.  He  appreciated 
and  acknowledged  its  beauty,  but  the  atmosphere  of 
the  place  did  not  suit  him.  The  genius  loci  was  not 
congenial.  The  reason  is  obvious — he  was  an  earnest 
man — a  man  with  a  mission.  Paris  is  the  capital  of 
pleasure.  It  is  laid  out  in  the  interest  of  "  the  lust 
of  the  eye,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  pride  of 
life."  'Tis  the  city  of  sensual  enchantments.  Its 


CONTINENTAL    GLIMPSES.  187 

boulevards,  its  broad  spaces,  populous  with  bewitch- 
ing statues,  its  architectural  splendors,  its  kaleido- 
scopic movement  and  glitter,  appeal  to  the  aesthetic 
rather  than  the  moral  nature.  Lotus-eating  is  there 
the  serious  business  of  life.  The  city  is  love-sick  with 
music  and  poetry.  The  luxurious  citizens,  melted  in 
baths  and  perfumes,  and  lounging  in  delicious  lan- 
guor, in  front  of  the  cafes,  or  in  the  foyers  of  the 
operas  or  theaters,  mock  at  the  severe  precepts  of 
Christian  virtue.  Lyres  and  easels  are  preferred  to 
Bibles  and  churches.  Paris  is  the  apotheosis  of  earth. 
Beautiful?  Yes;  but  " earthly,  sensual,  devilish." 

A  week  in  Paris,  passed  in  sight-seeing,  was  enough 
for  Mr.  Gough,  and  that  ex- Yankee  schoolma'am,  his 
wife,  two  Puritan  souls  out  of  harmony  with  their 
environment.  On  the  2Qth  they  deserted  the  French 
capital  for  Geneva,  where  they  rested  on  the  Sunday 
and  attended  church,  their  habit  always  and  every- 
where. On  the  Monday  following  they  set  out  for 
Chamounix.  The  day  was  clear.  The  experiences 
were  new.  Each  one  made  an  indelible  impression. 
Mr.  Gough  thus  describes  his  first  glimpse  at  Mont 
Blanc: 

"  Soon  after  noon  we  arrived  at  Lallenche,  and,  while  waiting 
for  dinner  and  a  change  of  I'otture,  I  strolled  out  with  Dr. 
Gould  ;  my  wife,  being  weary,  remained  in  the  hotel.  Stand- 
ing together  on  the  bridge,  I  said,  '  How  new  all  this  is  to  me 
— the  mountains,  valleys,  waterfalls,  picturesque  villages,  cha- 
lets— all  new  and  strange;  the  sky  so  clear  and  blue,  the  clouds 
so  pure — it  is  all  glorious !  What  a  peculiar  cloud  that  is  be- 
hind those  hills !  so  white,  so  clearly  cut,  it  appears  like — why 
it  is — yes — no — George,  that  is  the  mountain — that  is  Mont 
Blanc !  I  know  it !'  And  as  I  caught  the  first  view  of  the 


l88  JOHN    B.    GOIIGH. 

monarch  of  the  Alps  I  trembled  with  excitement.  With  tears 
in  my  eyes,  and  my  heart  full,  I  turned  away  to  hurry  Mary  out 
to  enjoy  it  with  us.  We  traveled  the  well  known  route  to  the 
Valley  of  Chamounix.  As  we  passed  through  it  toward  the 
village,  the  sun  sank  behind  the  hills,  and  left  us  in  shadow; 
but  the  gorgeous  coloring  of  the  snow  clad  mountains  filled  us 
with  delight.  Ever-changing,  ever-beautiful — wave  after  wave 
of  glory  seemed  to  roll  over  the  summit,  growing  more  and 
more  subdued  until,  with  one  flash  of  exquisite  beauty  from  the 
sun's  last  beam,  the  wonderful  outline  of  mountain  tops  stood 
relieved  by  the  dark  blue  sky — white,  cold,  chastely  beautiful. "' 

A  few  happy  days  of  excursionizing  in  and  around 
Chamounix  succeeded  this  elect  day  of  entrance,  the 
weather  holding  fair  and  favorable.  Then  the  tour- 
ists proceeded  through  the  magnificent  TtteNoir&aA 
Brunig  Passes  to  Lucerne — another  dream  of  de- 
light. Thence  the  route  lay  through  Basle,  out  of 
Switzerland  into  Germany,  to  Mayence,  down  the 
Rhine  to  Cologne,  and  from  Cologne,  by  way  of  Lisle 
and  Calais,  across  the  channel,  to  England  and  Lon- 
don. 

Amid  the  pleasures  of  travel,  Mr.  Gough  did  not 
forget  his  life-work.  He  says: 

"  I  had  heard  so  much  of  the  sobriety  of  wine-growing  coun- 
tries, and  so  many  propositions  to  introduce  wine  in  America 
as  a  cure  for  drunkenness,  that  I  determined  to  make  what  per- 
sonal observations  I  might  be  able  during  my  brief  sojourn  on 
the  Continent.  On  the  boulevards  and  the  Champs  Elysees  I 
saw  no  more  drunkenness  than  in  Broadway  or  Fifth  Avenue  ; 
but  in  the  narrow  by-streets  back  of  the  main  thoroughfare,  I 
discovered  as  many  evidences  of  gross  dissipation  as  in  Baxter 
street,  New  York,  or  in  Bedford  street,  Philadelphia.  I  took 
a  survey  of  the  low  cabarets,  and  found  the  same  bloated  or 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  447. 


CONTINENTAL    GLIMPSES.  189 

haggard  faces,  the  same  steaming  rags,  the  same  bleared  and 
blood-shot  eyes,  the  same  evidence  of  drink-soaked  humanity 
in  its  degradation,  as  in  any  of  the  grog-shops  in  the  United 
States.  In  Geneva — the  same ;  we  were  kept  awake  by  the 
bacchanalian  revels  of  intoxicated  men  in  the  streets  all  night. 
In  Vevay,  I  saw  more  evidences  of  drunkenness  than  in  any 
town  of  its  population  in  America.  In  Mayence,  a  fair  was  held 
while  we  were  there,  and  I  saw  more  drunken  men  on  the 
streets  and  in  the  squares  than  I  believe  were  to  be  seen  on  the 
streets  during  the  whole  five  days  of  the  '  Peace  Jubilee '  in 
Boston.  In  Basle  and  in  Cologne,  it  was  the  same ;  and  my 
impressions  are,  from  personal  observation  (not  very  extensive), 
that  drunkenness  prevails  in  wine-growing  countries  to  as  great 
an  extent  as  in  any  portion  of  the  United  States  that  I  have 
visited." 1 

Mr.  Gough  relates  how  he  and  his  wife  were  shown, 
at  Cologne,  the  skulls  of  the  ten  thousand  virgins — 
or  at  least  some  skulls,  and  says:  "  The  attendant 
showed  us  a  small  cracked  jar,  carefully  inclosed  in  a 
case,  lined  with  crimson  velvet,  and  told  us  that  was 
one  of  the  jars  the  Saviour  filled  with  wine  at  the 
marriage  in  Cana.  My  wife  turned  away,  and  he  said 
with  a  shrug: 

"  Americaine — hah!  not  moosh  like  relique." 

He  adds: 

"  This  reminded  me  of  the  sword  that  was  exhibited  as 
Balaam's  sword  with  which  he  slew  the  ass.  One  of  the  spec- 
tators said : 

"  '  But  Balaam  did  not  have  a  sword  ;  he  only  wished  for 
one.' 

"  '  Ah  ! '  cried  the  showman, '  this  is  the  sword  he  wished 
for.'"8 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  445,  446.     *  "  Autobiography,"  p.  450. 


III. 


A   DIP    INTO    IRELAND. 

NOTHING  is  more  fatiguing  than  sightseeing.  It 
involves  a  double  strain,  of  the  body,  on  account  of 
the  incessant  movement,  and  of  the  mind,  through  liv- 
ing on  the  qui  vive,  and  thinking  and  talking  in  ex- 
clamation marks.  Those  breathless  twenty-three  days 
on  the  Continent  made  Mr.  Gough,  veteran  traveler 
though  he  was,  glad  enough  to  rest  a  fortnight  in 
London,  before  again  turning 

".     .     .    itinerant, 
To  stroll  and  teach  from  town  to  town." 

But,  as  Tennyson  says,  "  men  must  work."  On  the 
3oth  of  August  the  new  season  began,  and  the 
whole  of  September  was  spent  in  England.  Then,  on 
the  3d  of  October,  the  lecturer  crossed  to  Erin,  and 
stepped  for  the  first  time  on  Irish  soil.  At  Dublin  he 
was  entertained  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Hall,  later  of 
New  York.  Here  three  lectures  were  delivered  to 
crowded  and  enthusiastic  audiences.  The  responsive- 
ness of  the  Celtic  blood  is  proverbial.  The  Irish  have 
quicksilver  in  their  veins.  Mr.  Gough  also  spoke  in 
Belfast,  Londonderry,  and  Cork, — in  the  former  four 
times,  in  the  latter  two  cities,  twice  in  each.  These 


A    DIP    INTO    IRELAND.  igi 

engagements  took  him  quite  through  the  island.  The 
impressions  of  such  a  shrewd  sight-seer  "are  of  value. 

The  Irish  question  was  then,  as  it  is  now,  has  been 
for  five  hundred  years,  and  will  be  until  it  is  settled 
on  the  basis  of  political  equity, — what  the  French 
call  a  burning  question.  Mr.  Gough  saw,  what  every 
traveler  sees,  abounding  ignorance,  poverty,  and 
drunkenness — the  very  landscape  squalid  and  tipsy. 
He  found  the  people  in  a  state  of  chronic  insurrec- 
tion and  hating  the  name  of  England.  They  were  at 
once  the  most  religious  and  the  most  unconscientious 
peasantry  in  Europe.  They  went  to  mass,  and  then 
adjourned  to  engage  in  or  watch  a  prize-fight.  They 
talked  honestly,  and  reduced  thievery  to  a  fine  art  in 
practice.  They  were  grateful  and  ungrateful,  in  a 
breath.  They  worked,  and  were  yet  improvident. 
In  wit  no  one  could  equal  them,  and  in  practical 
faculty  they  rated  with  the  people  of  Dahomey. 

Himself  one  of  the  most  mercurial  of  men,  Mr. 
Gough  believed  that  these  contradictions  in  the  Irish 
nature  were  the  result  of  a  volatile  temperament.  He 
understood  the  Irish,  because  he  knew  himself.  The 
lightning  changes  of  mood,  the  heights  and  depths  of 
feeling,  the  unreasoning  and  sometimes  unreasonable 
states  of  mind  which  marked  and  marred  his  own 
disposition,  he  discovered  in  these  dear,  dirty,  alto- 
gether enigmatical  but  delightful  Irish  folk — the  ad- 
miration and  despair  of  both  friends  and  foes. 

As  for  the  existing  ignorance  and  poverty,  the 
apostle  of  cold  water  had  no  difficulty  in  tracing  these 
to  their  sources.  He  was  convinced  that  a  vicious 
political  system  was  one  cause:  a  system  so  vicious 
that  it  gave  over  the  land  of  Ireland  to  absentee 


192  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

owners,  who  had  no  interest  in  the  tenants,  save  to 
squeeze  out  of  them  rent  to  the  last  farthing;  made 
peasant  proprietorship  impossible,  thus  depriving  the 
tillers  of  the  soil  of  all  inducement  to  improve  the 
land,  and  of  the  sense  of  self-respect  which  comes 
from  ownership;  and  discouraged  manufactures,  the 
only  other  available  means  of  prosperity,  because 
manufacturing  England  would  not  tolerate  a  rival  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Irish  Sea. 

The  other  plain  cause  of  Irish  pauperism  he  dis- 
covered in  the  drunken  habits  of  the  people.  During 
the  progress  of  Father  Mathew's  memorable  temper- 
ance crusade,  which  began  in  1838,  5,000,000  people, 
of  both  sexes,  all  ages,  and  all  conditions,  out  of  a 
total  population  of  8,175,124,  took  the  pledge  of  total 
abstinence.  Four  years  later,  drunkenness  had  dis- 
appeared in  many  parts  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  the  pub- 
lic-houses were  deserted,  the  distilleries  and  breweries 
were  closed,  and  the  criminal  calendars  at  the  assizes 
were  almost  blank.  The  annual  consumption  of 
spirits  dropped  from  11,595,536  gallons  in  1837  to 
6,484,443  in  1841,  with  an  increased  population. 

This  happy  condition  did  not  become  permanent — 
why  ?  Because  it  was  not  secured  by  a  prohibitory 
law.  A  weak,  moral  purpose  could  not  resist  the 
allurements  of  temptation.  Little  by  little,  the  liquor 
interest  regained  its  temporarily  lost  supremacy. 
The  public-houses,  distilleries,  and  breweries  resumed 
business  under  license.  The  number  of  gallons  of 
ardent  spirits  consumed  in  a  twelvemonth  went  up 
higher  than  ever;  while  the  population  entered  upon 
a  rapid  decline — which  has  continued  to  this  day.  As 
for  the  courts,  they  soon  found  plenty  of  occupation, 


A    DIP    INTO    IRELAND.  193 

one  person  in  every  fifty-four  of  the  population  being 
annually  convicted  of  habitual  drunkenness. 

Of  these,  and  similar  facts,  we  may  be  sure  the 
temperance  lecturer  made  telling  use  on  the  Irish 
rostrum. 

Evidences  of  the  awful  famine  of  1848,  which 
America  honored  itself  by  shipping  provisions  to 
relieve,  and  in  aid  of  which  Mr.  Gough  had  spoken 
more  than  once — were  visible.  Yet  at  that  very  time 
many  million  quarters  of  grain  were  diverted  from 
the  tables  of  the  starving  peasants  to  the  distilleries, 
and  thus  destroyed  for  food  and  distilled  into  poison 
for  the  brain.  "  When  children  were  found  dead," 
remarks  Mr.  Gough,  "  with  the  seaweed  they  had 
been  sucking  for  nourishment  between  their  teeth; 
when,  as  I  was  told  in  Brandon  by  the  rector,  people 
dreaded  to  go  out  at  night  for  fear  of  stumbling  over 
a  dead  body;  when  thousands  of  poor  creatures  were 
fed  every  day  in  the  yards  of  the  well-to-do,  and 
when  such  Good  Samaritans  were  obliged  to  sprinkle 
the  stones  on  which  they  sat  with  chloride  of  lime, 
for  fear  of  infection  from  the  famine  fever  which  was 
raging; — at  that  very  time  the  smoke  of  the  distil- 
leries was  darkening  the  air  and  intensifying  the 
famine." ' 

Mr.  Gough  spent  a  good  many  hours  while  in  Ire- 
land in  looking  around.  The  streets  of  Dublin  and 
of  Cork  specially  attracted  him.  He  says: 

"  The  best  thing  I  heard  in  Dublin  was  said  by  a  man  to  a 
woman.  Two  men  were  talking  together,  evidently  belonging  to 
the  poorest  class,  when  a  woman  short,  thick,  and  dumpy,  and 


1  "  Sunshine  and  Shadow,"  pp.  152,  153. 
13 


194  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

shockingly  dirty,  came  up  and  interrupted  them.  '  To  the 
divel  I'll  pitch  ye  now,  if  ye're  not  away,'  said  one. 

"  Still  she  annoyed  him,  when,  with  an  indescribable  con- 
tempt in  tone  and  gesture,  he  said : 

'  Go  away  with  ye  now  ;  you're  for  all  the  world  like  a  bad 
winter's  day — short  and  dirty  / '"  > 

In  referring  to  Cork,  he  says: 

"  I  followed  two  ballad-singers  for  nearly  an  hour  to  note 
the  people.  The  ballad  was  rough,  the  singers  were  rude, 
and  not  very  musical.  The  theme  was  the  loss  at  sea  of  the 
Royal  Charter.  I  was  very  much  touched  by  the  sad,  sym- 
pathetic faces  of  the  listeners,  a  crowd  of  whom  surrounded  the 
singers.  The  description  of  the  storm,  the  striking  of  the  ship, 
the  cry  of  the  passengers,  the  prayer  that  was  offered  by  those 
on  deck, — all  received  a  share  of  notice  and  sympathy.  When 
the  name  of  God  was  spoken,  every  man's  hat  was  off,  and 
every  woman  bowed  her  head.  I  saw  tears  streaming  down 
the  cheeks  of  some,  and  heard  such  expressions  as,  '  Ah  !  God 
be  betune  us  an'  all  harrum  ' ;  and,  '  Oh  !  the  cruel,  cruel  say, 
to  swallow  them  all  up."  It  was  to  me  very  interesting."8 

Ireland  is  the  most  beautiful  of  islands.  It  should 
be  the  happiest.  Its  rock-bound  coast  is  a  fringe  of 
grandeur  on  an  emerald  robe.  Its  soil  is  as  fertile  as 
the  sod  is  green.  Its  lakes  are  mirrors  of  heaven.  Its 
hills  and  vales  are  flowery  with  romance  and  hoary 
with  legend.  The  whole  landscape  is  a  smile  of  God. 

Alas  !  though  the  mother  of  the  people  is  genius, 
their  father  is  squalor.  They  are  housed  in  the  hovel 
of  drunkenness.  A  poor-house,  couchant,  and  a  dis- 
tillery, rampant,  should  be  quartered  upon  the  Irish 
coat-of-arms. 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  487.     2  "  Autobiography,"  p.  485. 


IV. 


BRITISH    MORALS,    MANNERS,   AND    MEN. 

THE  more  salient  of  Mr.  Gough's  Continental  and 
Irish  impressions  have  been  noted.  We  jot  down  in 
this  chapter  some  of  his  views  of  British  morals,  man- 
mers,  and  men. 

He  observed  and  commended  the  judicious  slow- 
ness of  the  English  mind, — its  dislike  of  novelty, — its 
constitutional  conservatism, — its  stubborn  determina- 
tion to  hold  on  to  what  it  has  until  it  is  sure  of  some- 
thing better, — its  preference  for  an  acre  on  earth 
rather  than  a  principality  in  Utopia, — its  deliberate 
investigation  and  debate  of  every  measure  of  pro- 
posed reform,  from  Magna  Charta  down,  and  desire 
to  be  assured  of  its  practicability,  before  moving  to 
adopt  it.  But  he  noted  that  when  once  convinced, 
movement  follows,  and  what  is  gained  is  gained  for 
ever.  Lord  Chesterfield,  several  generations  ago, 
expressed  this  truth  by  implication,  in  an  epigram 
addressed  to  a  French  acquaintance:  "  You  French- 
men erect  barricades,  but  never  any  barriers."  When 
the  French  see  or  suspect  an  abuse  they  are  furious, 
sing  the  "  Marseillaise,"  and  upset  the  Government. 
The  next  week  a  reaction  sets  in,  and  the  abuse  reap- 
pears. In  Britain  the  abuse  is  named,  a  meeting  is 
called,  proofs  are  offered,  public  opinion  is  informed, 


196  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

and  reform  follows  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  stays. 
This  takes  time,  and  is  galling  to  certain  nervous  and 
sanguine  spirits.  But  arguments  are  better  than 
bombs.  And  progress  is  surer  when  made  by  pop- 
ular consent,  than  when  imposed  either  by  a  mob  or 
by  a  Cabinet.  Many  times  hasty  people  go  away 
from  Britain  only  to  come  back  after  a  series  of  mis- 
adventures to  slow  up  with  the  country. 

It  was  his  knowledge  of  this  mood  of  the  British 
mind  which  made  John  B.  Gough  so  patient  and  per- 
severing in  his  use  of  moral  suasion.  He  saw  that  what 
the  people  needed  was  information  and  direction — 
the  actual  preception  of  ardent  spirits  as  an  abuse 
that  required  reforming  and  could  be  reformed. 
"  The  great  difficulty  experienced  in  advocating  tem- 
perance there,"  he  writes,  "  is,  or  was,  the  dogged, 
arbitrary  condemnation  of  the  principles  involved,  a 
stolidity  of  perception,  and  an  expressed  belief  in  the 
impossibility  of  establishing  those  principles  among 
them.  And  yet  the  temperance  movement  is  steadily 
increasing  in  power  and  influence.  Some  of  the 
leaders  are  far-seeing  men,  and  look  not  only  to  the 
direct  results,  but  to  the  future  development  of  the 
harvest  of  which  they  are  patiently  sowing  the  seeds. 
I  know  no  men  who  are  more  deserving  of  all  praise 
than  the  steady,  persevering  advocates  of  reform — 
political,  ecclesiastical,  and  moral — in  Great  Britain."  ' 

Mr.  Gough  bears  glowing  testimony  to  the  "  large 
amount  of  good  effected  in  England  by  self-denying 
women,"  and  adds: 

"  Let  any  person  read  '  English  Hearts  and  English  Hands,' 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  506,  507. 


BRITISH    MORALS,    MANNERS,    AND    MEN.  197 

or  'The  Missing  Link,'  and  he  will  see  what  women  are  doing 
in  Christian  work  among  the  destitute  classes.  Read  '  Haste 
to  the  Rescue,'  or  '  Ragged  Homes,  and  How  to  Mend  Them," 
or '  Workmen  and  Their  Difficulties,'  and  you  will  gain  an  in- 
sight into  this  sphere  of  labor  that  will  convince  you  that  their 
work  must  be  successful  in  the  end.  No  discouragements 
hinder,  no  opposition  checks  them ;  their  purposes  seem 
strengthened  by  blasts  of  adverse  criticism.  I  met  the  men  and 
women  who  have  been  gathered  in  the  '  Kensington  Potteries  ' 
by  Mrs.  Bailey,  and  I  spent  a  few  days  at  Shrewsbury,  as  the 
guest  of  Rev.  Charles  Wightman,  whose  noble  wife  has  accom- 
plished a  wonderful  work  among  the  denizens  of  Butcher's  row 
— uncleanness,  degradation,  sin  alleviated.  ...  In  many 
places  where  I  was  a  guest,  I  found  the  ladies  of  the  family 
busily  and  earnestly  engaged  in  endeavoring  to  ameliorate  the 
condition  of  the  poor,  by  inculcating  temperance,  visiting 
them,  reading  to  them,  and  teaching  them  cleanliness  and  habits 
of  thrift."  l 

This  work  is  not  confined  to  the  temperance  classes. 
Thoughtful  people  generally  are  addressing  them- 
selves more  and  more  to  the  study  and  solution  of 
the  complicated  problems  which  tax  and  vex  modern 
civilization — so  he  testifies. 

Mr.  Gough's  remarks  regarding  society  are  inter- 
esting : 

"  Society  in  Great  Britain  is  divided  into  three  classes — 
nobility,  gentry  (among  whom  rank  the  clergy),  and  the  public 
generally.  These  again  are  divided  and  subdivided,  to  an 
almost  illimitable  extent.  My  work  brought  me  constantly  in 
contact  with  the  public  generally,  often  with  the  gentry,  and 
very  seldom  with  the  aristocracy.  Though  the  reverence  for 
mere  rank  is  dying  out,  still  there  is  a  deference  paid  to  '  my 


"Autobiography,"  pp.  510  and  512. 


198  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

lord  ' ;  and  to  be  seen  on  the  sunny  side  of  Pall  Mall  in  the 
height  of  the  season,  arm  in  arm  with  a  live  lord,  would  repay 
some  men  for  any  amount  of  toadyism."  ' 

Although  toadyism  results  inevitably  from  the 
social  organization  in  Great  Britain,  our  critic  is  sure 
that  there  is  a  large  element  of  it  in  human  nature, 
and  gives  this  sly  dig  at  America  : 

"  Though  we  in  a  republican  country  ridicule  the  flunkeyism 
of  Great  Britain,  there  is  just  as  much  here  as  there.  Many 
Americans  would  feel  flattered  by  attention  from  a  lord,  and 
bow  as  low  to  a  title  as  any  in  England.  How  much  planning 
and  maneuvering  there  is  to  secure  the  presence  of  a  lord  at 
fashionable  parties  in  New  York  and  in  other  cities  we  all 
know."  '2 

He  might  have  made  his  case  stronger  had  he  cited 
the  common  sale  of  American  heiresses  for  titles  in 
the  matrimonial  markets  of  Europe — so  much  gold 
for  so  much  title,  with  the  girl  thrown  into  the  bar- 
gain ! 

Continuing  in  this  vein,  he  goes  on  to  say  : 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  great  affability  of  the  nobility,  but  I 
must  confess,  that  in  my  limited  experience  of  them  I  have 
found,  with  some  exceptions,  an  indescribable  sort  of 'touch 
me  not,"  a  kind  of  '  you  may  look  but  you  must  not  touch.' 
Perhaps  it  is  owing  to  my  education  and  early  experiences,  but 
I  could  never  feel  as  entirely  at  my  ease  with  a  lord  as  with  a 
commoner."  * 

Mr.  Gough  was  persuaded  that  the  existence  of  a 
large,  wealthy,  idle,  upper  class,  whose  object  in  life 


1  "Autobiography,*'  p.  456.     2  "Autobiography,  pp.  456,  457. 
1  "Autobiography,"  p.  457. 


BRITISH    MORA1  S,    MANNERS,    AND    MEN.  199 

is  pleasure,  stands  toward  vice  in  the  relation  of  cause 
to  effect.     On  this  point  he  says  : 

"  While  I  was  in  London,  a  testimonial  was  presented  to  a.. 
man  who  has  dared,  perhaps  more  than  any  other,  to  make 
vice  attractive.  I  speak  of  the  manager  and  proprietor  of  the 
'  Argyll  Rooms,'  where  music  and  dancing  are  carried  on 
every  night — '  admission,  gentlemen  one  shilling,  ladies  free,' 
and  where  no  reputable  woman  enters.  Actually,  a  lord  pre- 
sided at  the  dinner  and  presented  the  testimonial!  No  wonder 
London  abounds  in  Traviatas  in  the  parks,  theaters,  and 
fashionable  streets.  The  terrible  '  social  evil,'  like  everything 
else  in  London,  is  on  the  most  gigantic  scale;  it  is  a  question 
that  can  never  be  tabulated.  And  so  long  as  women  can  barely 
exist  in  virtuous  industry — so  long  as  there  are  rich  and  fash- 
ionable men  to  sanction  vice — so  long  as  young  blood  becomes 
fevered  by  strong  drink — so  long  as  young  men  and  women 
dare  not  marry,  as  their  parents  did,  and  bravely  and  nobly 
fight  the  battle  of  life ; — so  long  will  the  '  social  evil '  in  Eng- 
land, and  in  this  country,  continue  to  be  a  social  blot,  tainting 
society — a  frightful  source  of  sin  and  misery."  ' 

Mr.  Gough  says  that  the  social  divisions  in  Britain 
were  accurately  marked  by  the  prices  of  admission  to 
his  lectures  :  First  class,  five  shillings,  or  half  a  crown, 
as  it  might  be  ;  second  class,  one  shilling;  working 
people,  sixpence. 

In  the  manufacturing  districts  he  found  much  to 
deplore: 

"  No  one  can  visit  them  without  being  struck  by  the  contrast 
between  the  operatives  there  and  here.  Go  into  a  mill  here  and 
you  see  the  girls,  as  a  rule,  neat,  clean,  healthy — bits  of  looking- 
glass  placed  on  the  walls,  or  posts,  at  intervals,  and  perhaps 
some  young  girl  '  doing  up  her  hair  '  in  her  short  leisure  time, 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  463,  464. 


200  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

or  sitting  for  another  to  curl  it.  In  many  English  factories  you 
see  heated,  half-clad  figures,  thin,  clammy  hands,  and  pallid 
faces — girls,  women/lads,  men — all  alike  in  their  gaunt,  ghastly 
weariness.  Out  of  the  mill  you  see  abject  slovenliness,  only 
occasionally  relieved  by  a  faint  attempt  at  smartness.  Girls 
go  without  bonnets,  with  sometimes  a  shawl  over  the  head 
from  which  they  have  not  picked  out  the  oily  refuse  that  clings 
to  them.  In  Scotland  and  Ireland  they  are  universally  bare- 
footed. In  Lancashire  they  wear  those  wooden-soled  shoes 
that  make  a  peculiar  and  deafening  clatter,  clatter,  when  tlie 
mill  hands  are  let  out."1 

Of  all  working  people,  however,  "the  Yankee" 
found  the  miners  and  the  agricultural  laborers  the 
most  ignorant  and  neglected — but  a  step  above  the 
yahoos  or  thugs.  The  miners  being  out  of  sight 
(underground)  are  out  of  mind.  With  regard  to  the 
farm  hands,  he  remarks: 

"  We  are  told  that '  nature  is  a  great  educator.'  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it.  I  found  men  and  women  who  were  born  and  reared, 
and  who  lived  in  the  most  lovely  rural  districts,  where  nature 
laughs  in  all  the  perfection  of  beauty,  who  are  among  the  most 
stupid,  boorish,  and  unintellcctual  beings  in  human  shape. 
Their  employment  requires  no  thought;  one  is  a  plowman,  and 
does  nothing  but  follow  the  plow  ;  another  a  hedger  or  ditcher, 
etc.  I  have  tried  to  converse  with  them,  but  found  them  wo- 
fully  ignorant.  The  last  words  of  a  dying  Lancashire  boor  are 
recorded:  '  W'at  wi'  faath,  and  watwi'  the  'arth  turning  round 
the  soon,  and  w'at  wi'  the  raalroads  a  fuzzen  and  a  whuzzen, 
I'm  clean  moodled  and  bet.'"* 

Mr.  Gough  is  sure  that  Dickens  and  Thackeray  and 
Kingsley  have  not  drawn  and  could  not  draw  an 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  470,  471.     s"  Autobiography,"  p.  472. 


BRITISH    MORALS,    MANNERS,    AND    MEN.  2OI 

exaggerated  picture  of  the  ignorance  of  these  people. 
He  writes  : 

"  When  visiting  Bedfordshire,  where  Bunyan  lived,  preached, 
and  was  imprisoned,  and  Cowper's  residence  when  he  was  so 
long  with  Mrs.  Unwin — I  went  with  a  party  to  see  the  Church 
in  which  Scott,  the  commentator,  once  preached.  A  woman 
accompanied  us  to  show  us  the  place,  and  at  every  reply  to 
our  questions,  with  her  arms  folded,  she  would  duck  down  in 
an  attempt  at  a  courtesy.  I  said  to  her  once : 

" '  Please,  ma'am,  do  not  bob  at  me  so,  when  I  speak  to  you. 
I  do  not  like  it.' 

"We  noticed  a  row  of  hard-looking  benches — reminding  me 
of  the  seats  in  old-fashioned  New  England  schoolhouses.  I 
asked  : 

' "  What  are  these  benches  for  ? ' 

" '  Please,  sir,  they  gits  the  colic,  sir.' 

" '  The  colic !  good  gracious  !  what  do  they  get  the  colic 
for?' 

" '  Please,  sir,  they  are  obleeged  to,  every  Sunday  morning, 
sir.' 

"  '  Well,  well,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  ;  obliged  to  get 
the  colic  every  Sunday  morning  ?  ' 

" '  Yes,  please  sir,  all  of  them  is  obliged  to  get  it.' 

"  I  must  confess  tor  a  moment  I  had  a  vision  of  a  set  of 
wretched  children  on  hard  benches  in  a  high  state  of  inward 
disturbance — when  one  of  the  party  laughed  heartily  and  said : 

" '  She  means  they  are  compelled  to  learn  the  collect  (prayers 
for  the  day  in  the  English  Church  liturgy)  every  Sunday 
morning.' 

"  That  was,  probably  the  extent  of  their  religious  education."  ' 

In  Scotland  the  helpers  about  the  farm  were  called 
hinds — a  word  which  defines  their  status.  In  Wales, 
Mr.  Gough  saw  women  and  young  girls  working  in 


1  Autobiography,"  pp.  478,  479. 


202  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  brick-yards — their  dress  simply  a  coarse  frock. 
All  these  unfortunates  were  boozy  with  beer  or  fud- 
dled with  gin. 

This  was  a  generation  ago.  Things  have  somewhat 
mended  since  then.  But  we  have  already  quoted  Mr. 
Gough's  testimony  regarding  the  slowness  of  the 
British  mind.  What  need  amid  such  surroundings 
for  the  heart  of  Christ  and  the  zeal  of  Paul! 

Mr.  Gough's  vocation  brought  him  in  contact  with 
the  celebrities  of  the  day,  and  especially  with  such  as 
wrought  in  the  field  of  philanthropy.  Many  of  these 
meetings  by  the  wayside  of  reform  ripened  into 
charming  intimacies.  The  Established  Church  was 
then  unfriendly  to  teetotalism,  so  that  its  clergy  were 
not  in  touch  with  him.  But  the  great  Nonconform- 
ists leaders  cooperated  zealously  against  the  drink. 
Of  several  titans  he  makes  offhand  sketches,  com- 
mencing with  Dr.  Guthrie: 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  preachers  I  ever  heard  was 
Dr.  Guthrie,  of  Edinburgh.  In  1853-55  and  1857-60  I  listened 
to  him  often.  It  was  difficult  to  get  into  the  church,  every  inch 
of  room  being  occupied  that  could  be  made  available  either  for 
sitting  or  standing.  The  doctor  kindly  gave  me  a  pass,  and 
my  wife  and  myself  always  found  a  good  seat.  The  audience 
was  composed  of  the  literary,  philosophical,  scientific,  and 
intellectual,  with  a  fair  show  of  the  commonplace ;  for  the 
preacher  had  a  marvelous  power  of  adapting  his  discourse  to 
the  gratification  of  the  intellectual  and  to  the  understanding  of 
the  common  mind.  The  Duke  of  Argyll  was  often  there, 
together  with  professors  from  the  University.  Truly,  the  rich 
and  poor  met  together,  for  Dr.  Guthrie  was  almost  worshiped 
by  many  of  the  denizens  of  the  closes  on  High  street,  and  no 
wonder ;  for  while  he  rebuked  the  sins,  he  sympathized  with 
the  sorrows  of  poor  humanity.  .  .  .  After  the  preliminary 


BRITISH    MORALS,    MANNERS,    AND    MEN.  203 

services,  which  were  very  solemn  and  tender,  the  people  settled 
down  to  listen.  The  first  time  I  heard  him  he  took  the  text : '  We 
all  do  fade  as  a  leaf.'  Then  there  was  a  pause  amid  the  breath- 
less silence  of  the  congregation.  See  him  with  his  noble  fore- 
head, and  those  magnificent  eyes,  as  he  tenderly  looks  over  the 
large  assemblage,  his  heait  overflowing  with  tender  sympathy 
and  affection  for  those  who  were  traveling  to  that  '  bourn  from 
which  no  traveler  returns.'  And  then  he  went  on  and  on  with 
that  magnificent  voice,  sometimes  like  '  a  thunder  psalm  among 
the  hills,'  then  like  the  sigh  of  the  wind  among  the  trees ;  again 
like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  then  like  the  JEoli&n  harp  ;  at  one 
moment,  sharp,  staccato,  the  next  seeming  to  struggle  through 
'a  mist  of  unshed  tears.'  Your  eyes  would  fill  in  spite  of  your- 
self by  the  power  of  his  pathos. 

"  The  acquaintance  and  friendship  I  was  permitted  to  enjoy 
with  Dr.  Guthrie,  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  my  reminis- 
cences. He  presided  several  times  at  my  meetings ;  and  I 
remember  how  amused  he  was  when  once  the  Secretary  said: 

"'  The  Rev.  Dr.  Guthrie,  author  of  the  "  Sins  and  Sorrows  of 
the  City,"  will  preside  ;  and  Professor  Miller,  author  of  "  Alco- 
hol "  will  preside  to-morrow  evening.'"1 

The  Rev.  William  Arnot,  of  Glasgow,  was  another 
Scotch  pulpiteer  with  whom  the  pleader  for  temper- 
ance became  familiar — "  very  different  from  Dr. 
Guthrie,  yet  not  one  whit  below  him  in  influence  or 
power,  appealing  to  the  intellect  rather  than  to  the 
feelings,  yet  at  times  very  tender."  * 

Mr.  Gough  often  heard,  and  greatly  liked,  Newman 
Hall,  who  preached  in  Surrey  Chapel,  where  he  spoke 
himself — his  mother's  first  church  home. 

Among  others,  not  of  the  clergy,  but  co-workers  in 


1  "  Sunshine  and  Shadow,"  pp.  383-389. 
*  "  Sunshine  and  Shadow,"  p.  389. 


204  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

good  words  and  works,  he  recalls  the  Earl  of  Shaftes- 
bury,  a  nobleman  in  fact  as  well  as  by  title,  who 
carved  his  name  in  the  hearts  of  England's  poor  ; 
not  an  orator,  but  "  whose  presence  was  mightier 
than  speech."  And  John  Bright  is  particularly  men- 
tioned, with  whom  he  passed  a  week  in  one  of  those, 
charming  British  country-seats  (in  Brymbo,  Wales), 
and  to  whom  he  listened  for  an  hour  (and  could  have 
listened  for  ever),  as  he  spoke  there  to  an  extem- 
porized gathering  of  iron-workers  upon  the  question 
of  "Capital  and  Labor,"  showing  their  inter-depend- 
ence in  words  "  incisive,  clear  as  crystal,"  and  of  vivid 
power. 

With  the  Corn-Law  reformers,  too,  he  made  an 
acquaintance — and  Richard  Cobden,  Henry  Vincent, 
and  George  Thompson  were  among  the  supreme 
names  in  the  estimation  of  this  kindred  spirit. 

When  in  London  his  favorite  resorts  were  the 
Houses  of  Parliament,  where  history  is  made,  and 
Westminster  Abbey,  where  history  is  preserved.  But 
the  streets  of  the  modern  Babylon  were,  perhaps,  his 
chiefest  haunt.  Here  he  found  human  nature  at  first 
hand — endless  in  its  diversity — with  tragedies  and 
comedies  of  actual  life  enacted  on  every  corner — 
Punch-and-Judy  shows  galore — heroism  and  coward- 
ice, generosity  and  meanness,  virtue  and  vice,  elbow 
to  elbow  in  the  procession  of  humanity. 

The  long  term  of  the  temperance  advocate's  volun- 
tary exile  drew  to  a  close.  His  final  round  was  made 
in  England,  with  the  exception  of  eighteen  days 
given  to  Ireland,  and  a  hurried  trip  to  Glasgow  for  a 
farewell  address  in  that  seaport,  and  to  attend  a 
good-bye  soirte  there.  On  Wednesday  evening,  the 


BRITISH    MORALS,    MANNERS,    AND    MEN.  205 

8th  of  August,    he   gave   his  last  lecture  in   Exeter 
Hall.     We  quote  his  own  account  of  this  meeting  : 

"  Several  American  friends  were  present,  among  them  the 
Rev.  Dr.  George  B.  Chiever  and  the  Hon.  Ichabod  Washburn, 
of  Worcester.  Those  who  had  signed  the  pledge  in  Exeter 
Hall  had  subscribed  for  a  Bible,  to  be  presented  on  the  last 
evening  I  should  lecture  there.  I  had  spoken  ninety-five  times 
in  that  Hall,  and  on  the  ninety-sixth  and  last  the  Bible  was 
presented.  It  was  one  of  the  largest  audiences  I  had  met 
there.  It  was  very  exciting  to  me,  and  I  was  more  nearly 
overcome  than  I  remember  ever  to  have  been  on  any  similar 
occasion.  My  dear  friend,  George  Cruikshank,  presided ; 
Judge  Payne,  of  the  Court  of  Quarter  Sessions,  was  appointed 
to  present  the  Bible  ;  my  first  English  friends,  true,  tried,  and 
faithful,  were  there — dear  Tweedie,  Campbell,  Howlett,  the 
brothers  John  and  Joseph  Taylor,  Spriggs,  Hugh  Owen,  with 
many  more  from  the  London  societies  and  from  the  provinces. 

"  When  the  Bible  was  presented,  I  rose  to  reply,  and  no 
schoolboy,  on  his  first  appearance,  could  have  felt  more 
embarrassed.  At  last  I  said:  '  My  dear  friends,  as  I  look  at 
this  splendid  testimonial  of  your  good  will — rich  in  morocco 
and  gold,  beautiful  as  a  work  of  art  and  skill — I  think  of 
another  book,  a  little  one  ;  broken,  torn,  ragged,  and  imperfect — 
you  would  hardly  pick  it  up  in  the  street ;  but  to  me,  precious 
as  your  gift  is  to-night,  more  precious  is  that  little  book.  On 
the  illuminated  fly-leaf  of  this  I  read  :  '  Presented  Aug.  8, 
1860,  to  John  B.  Gough,  on  his  leaving  England  for  America, 
by  those  only  who  signed  the  pledge  after  hearing  him  in 
Exeter  Hall,  London.'  On  the  brown,  mildewed  fly-leaf  of  the 
other  book  are  these  words  :  'Jane  Gough,  born  Aug.  12,  1776. 
John  Gough,  born  Aug.  22,  1817.  The  gift  of  his  mother,  on 
his  departure  from  England  for  America.'  Two  gifts,  and  two 
departures ! 

"  As  I  began  to  review  the  past  experiences  since  I  left 
home,  thirty-one  years  before,  the  flood  of  recollections  came 
over  me,  combined  with  the  tender  associations  connected 


2O6  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

with  farewell,  and  I  stammered,  became  nervous,  and  was 
unable  to  proceed.  As  I  stood  there,  the  unshed  tears  rilling 
my  eyes,  Thomas  Irving  White  rose,  and  taking  me  by  the 
hand,  said  ;  '  God  bless  him  !  Give  him  three  cheers  ! ' 

"  And  the  audience  started  to  their  feet,  and  with  waving  of 
hats  and  handkerchiefs,  gave  them  with  a  will.  That  unsealed 
the  fountain,  and  I  bowed  my  head  and  cried  like  a  very  boy." ' 

On  the  loth  of  August,  a  large  number  of  the 
reformer's  friends  gathered  at  the  "  Northwestern  " 
Railway  Station  to  see  him  off.  Many  brought,  others 
had  previously  sent,  parting  gifts.  Amid  smiles  and 
tears  the  train  puffed  away  to  Liverpool.  In  the 
evening  of  that  same  day,  he  spoke  in  Concert  Hall, 
Liverpool,  to  another  vast  assemblage.  On  the  nth 
of  August,  1860,  the  embarkation  occurred,  the  good 
steamer  Arabia  started,  and  the  second  British  tour 
became  a  memory.  In  summing  up  the  figures,  Mr. 
Gough  states  that  during  the  first  British  visit  he 
lectured  438  times,  and  traveled  23,224  miles  ;  during 
the  second,  he  delivered  605  addresses,  and  traveled 
40,217  miles — making  in  all  1,043  public  appearances, 
and  63,441  miles  of  travel. 

The  good  he  did  is  not  so  easily  tabulated.  But 
the  Recording  Angel  may  be  depended  upon  for  that 
record. 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  452,  453. 


PART  IX. 
Renewed  Usefulness  at  Home 


"  I  pity  the  man  who  can  travel  from  Dan 
to  Beerslieba,  and  cry,  '  Tis  all  barren.'" 
—  STERNE,  Sentimental  Journey 


I. 


A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

IT  so  happened  that  Mr.  Gough  reached  "  Hillside" 
on  his  birthday,  which  was  celebrated  quietly  but 
thankfully  by  all  the  inmates.  A  few  days  later  there 
was  a  reception  picnic  in  an  adjacent  grove;  then  a 
rousing  reception  in  Worcester,  at  the  Mechanics' 
Hall;  and,  finally,  the  truant  was  welcomed  home  by 
the  clergy  of  the  Commonwealth,  at  a  great  meeting 
in  Tremont  Temple,  Boston;  when  an  autograph- 
book,  filled  with  the  signatures  (nearly  five  hundred 
in  number)  of  those  who  had  issued  the  address  of 
greeting,  with  the  inscription — "The  Welcome  of  the 
Ministers  of  Massachusetts  to  John  B.  Gough,  on  his 
return  from  England  in  August,  1860," — was  pre- 
sented, which  called  forth  an  appropriate  and  feeling 
response  from  the  recipient. 

Shadows  lurk  in  sunshine.  These  public  mani- 
festations of  esteem  were  saddened  by  private  sorrows. 
Mrs.  Gough  learned  that  one  of  her  brothers,  Luke 
Whitcomb,  had  been  killed  in  a  railroad  accident  two 
weeks  before  her  return.  She  found  a  remaining 
brother  at  death's  door  with  brain  fever,  and  within 
a  fortnight  saw  him  pass  through  the  somber 
portals. 

While  doing  what  he  could  to  comfort   "  Mary," 


210  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  husband  felt  the  shadow  creep  into  his  own  heart 
— the  kind  hand  that  had  been  laid  upon  his  shoulder 
to  lead  him  to  reform,  was  gone!  He  writes: 

"On  my  return  home  from  New  York,  October  26th,  1860,  I 
was  informed  that  Joel  Stratton  was  very  ill.  I  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  his  home,  and  found  him  propped  up  by  pillows  in 
his  chair,  for  his  disease  was  of  such  a  character  that  he  could 
not  lie  down.  The  drops  stood  like  beads  on  his  forehead  and 
on  the  backs  of  his  hands,  for  he  was  very  weak.  I  said  to 
him, — 'God  bless  you,  Stratton;  thousands  are  thankful  that 
you  ever  lived.'  Feebly  he  whispered,  'Do  you  think  so?' 
'  Think  so !  I  have  my  English  mail  here,' —  and  I  read  him 
some  extracts  from  a  letter  I  had  received  from  a  lady,  who 
wrote,  '  How  glad  you  must  have  been  to  meet  your  old  friend, 
Joel  Stratton,  for  whom  we  often  pray,  and  whom  we  all  love.' 
Looking  at  me  with  his  pleasant  smile,  he  said  :  '  When  I  laid 
my  hand  on  your  shoulder  that  night,  I  never  dreamed  all  this 
would  come  to  pass — did  you  ?  '  '  No,'  I  said,  '  but  it  has.'  I 
kissed  him,  and  left  him,  hoping  to  see  him  again.  I  was  en- 
gaged in  Montreal  on  the  29th,  and  on  my  return  found  he  was 
dead.  The  funeral  was  to  take  place  the  next  day,  Novem- 
ber 7th." 

Mr.  Gough  spoke  at  this  service,  words  of  tender 
affection  and  appreciation,  a  heart-throb  in  each  one: 

"  I  never  knew  him  intimately,  on  account  of  his  great  mod- 
esty and  diffidence.  He  always  kept  himself  in  the  background. 
He  was  always  the  last  man  to  take  my  hand  at  the  door  at 
my  lecture  when  he  was  present.  I  owe  to  him  all  I  am,  since 
I  have  been  worth  anything  to  my  fellow  men ;  and  while  I  am 
almost  daily  annoyed  by  letters  from  persons  who  knew  me  in 
my  former  life,  or  who  were  acquainted  with  some  who  knew 
me,  asking  of  me  some  assistance,  Joel  Stratton  never  once 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  521. 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  211 

asked  of  me  a  favor.  He  never  obtruded  himself  upon  me ; 
never  alluded  to  his  instrumentality  in  my  reform;  never 
appeared  to  pride  himself  upon  it,  as  if  it  were  a  meritorious 
deed."  ' 

Mr.  Stratton  left  his  family  in  financial  straits.  Mr. 
Gough  counted  it  a  privilege  to  settle  an  annuity  of 
$300  upon  the  widow,  which  he  paid  as  regularly  as 
the  date  recurred,  during  her  life. 

Now  that  he  was  at  home  again,  he  threw  himself 
with  his  accustomed  ardor  into  work — was  here, 
there,  and  yonder,  after  the  manner  of  what  Wendell 
Phillips  styled  "  a  vagabond  lecturer."  Adventures 
were  common.  Once,  while  en  route,  the  railroad  was 
choked  with  snow;  the  train  was  hours  late.  "  At  a 
certain  station,"  says  Mr.  Gough,  "  we  took  on  board 
a  large  number  of  passengers  who  had  been  detained 
all  night  waiting  for  the  cars,  when  one  elderly, 
wo-begone  man  stood  in  the  passage-way,  and,  look- 
ing about  him — the  seats  being  all  occupied — said 
with  a  most  lugubrious  air  and  tone: 

"  '  This  is  too  bad!  here  I've  ben  laying  on  the 
floor  in  the  depot  all  night,  and  now  I  can't  find  a 
place  to  set.' 

"  A  gentleman  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  said: 

"  '  That  is  too  bad;  here's  a  place — set  here! ' 

"  Amid  a  noisy  burst  of  merriment  that  surprised 
him,  the  man  took  the  offered  seat."  * 

The  professional  season  of  1 860-61  witnessed  a  new 
departure  on  Mr.  Gough's  part.  Until  now  he  had 
spoken  invariably  upon  temperance.  He  was  suffering 
in  body  and  mind  from  this  "harping on  one  string." 


1  "Autobiography,"  p.  524.     2  "  Autobiography,"  p.  535. 


212  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

He  realized  the  need  of  variety  in  his  labors  if  he 
would  preserve  his  health  and  continue  his  useful- 
ness. Thus  far,  he  had  acted  as  a  guerilla  in  the 
lecture  field.  The  Lyceum  courses  of  the  States  had 
almost  never  announced  his  name  in  their  annual 
lists  of  lecturers.  The  fault  was  not  theirs,  but  his. 
He  had  preferred  to  remain  an  outsider.  The  Lyceum 
method  was  to  engage  six,  eight,  or  ten  different 
names,  as  diversified  as  possible;  his  was,  to  give 
courses  himself.  At  this  time  he  was  besieged  with 
applications  from  Lyceum  committees — each  mail 
brought  them  by  the  dozen,  from  all  points  of  the 
compass.  Often  they  asked  for  a  temperance  lec- 
ture; frequently  the  demand  was  for  another  theme. 
After  prolonged  consideration,  Mr.  Gough  consented 
to  prepare  a  lecture  on  "  Street  Life  in  London  " — a 
taking  caption,  and  a  topic  upon  which  he  could  speak 
con  amore.  Very  reluctantly  and  timidly  he  set  about 
his  task.  Even  more  unwillingly  did  he  appear  in 
public  with  the  result,  visible  in  the  shape  of  a  pile 
of  manuscript  laid  before  him,  and  before  all,  upon 
the  table.  It  was  in  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  and 
in  the  Library  course  on  November  2ist,  1860.  The 
effort  was  a  complete  success.  The  notes  did  not 
interfere  with  his  delivery;  because,  though  he  spoke 
from  them,  it  was  away  from  them!  This  New  Haven 
success  was  repeated  in  Boston,  Providence,  Wor- 
cester, and  elsewhere. 

Encouraged  by  the  approbation  accorded  to  his 
maiden  effort,  the  orator  prepared  another  lecture — 
"  Lights  and  Shadows  of  London  Life,"  which  was 
equally  well  received.  Others  followed  on  other 
topics,  usually  a  new  one  each  season;  "  Here  and 


A   CHANGE    OF    BASE.  213 

There  in  Britain,"  "  London,"  "  Eloquence  and  Ora- 
tors," "  Peculiar  People,"  "  Fact  and  Fiction," 
"  Habit,"  "  Curiosity,"  "  Circumstances,"  and  many 
more — all  immensely  popular,  treated  in  a  masterly 
way,  and  combining  entertainment  and  instruction 
after  the  fashion  characteristic  of  the  author. 

In  entering  the  Lyceum  Mr.  Gough  came  in  direct 
competition  with  the  great  speakers  of  the  country,  as 
he  had  not  done  before,  in  a  way  which  inevitably  sub- 
jected him  to  comparison.  He  lacked  the  classic  finish 
of  Wendell  Phillips,  the  rhetorical  graces  of  Edward 
Everett,  the  piquancy  of  Starr  King,  the  magnificent 
elocution  of  Dr.  E.  H.  Chapin,  the  scholarly  elabora- 
tion of  Charles  Sumner,  the  Addisonian  style  and 
witchery  of  Geo.  Wm.  Curtis,  the  "  Beecherisms"  of 
Plymouth  Church's  unprecedented  Boanerges — but 
he  had  a  charm  and  versatility  all  his  own,  and  was 
and  ever  remained  the  only  Gough!  As  for  that 
supreme  test  of  popularity,  the  ability  to  draw,  he 
was  from  first  to  last  the  most  reliable  name  on  any 
and  every  lecture  list,  from  the  Bay  of  Fundy  to  the 
Golden  Gate. 

Like  all  men  of  strong  personality  and  aggressive 
earnestness,  Mr.  Gough  had  plenty  of  enemies  both 
within  and  without  the  pale  of  temperance.  These 
eagerly  seized  upon  this  change  of  base,  and  widely 
heralded  it  "  a  desertion  of  the  cause."  The  lie 
refuted  itself.  For  those  who  heard  the  new  lectures 
perceived  that  the  lecturer  invariably  worked  into 
each  prominent  and  repeated  references  to  his  old 
theme.  Moreover,  he  continued  throughout  his  life, 
whenever  an  opportunity  occurred,  to  speak  solely 
upon  temperance,  and  often  at  his  own  charges. 


214  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

An  idea  of  the  demand  for  Mr.  Gough's  services 
may  be  gotten  from  the  fact  that  in  some  years  he 
refused  upwards  of  one  thousand  applications.  He 
devoted  eight  months  to  the  platform,  now  as  for- 
merly, and  four  to  rest  and  preparation;  and  de- 
livered from  one  hundred  and  sixty  to  one  hundred 
and  eighty  lectures  in  a  twelvemonth. 

It  was  said,  as  though  it  were  a  sin,  that  "  Mr. 
Gough  grew  rich  on  temperance."  Supposing  it 
were  true,  did  he  not  constantly  assert  that  there  was 
more  wealth  in  temperance  than  in  drunkenness? 
Should  it  have  surprised  anybody  that  the  most  pop- 
ular speaker  in  the  English  world  for  forty-three, 
years,  was  well  paid  ?  How  was  it  with  successful 
men  in  other  spheres?  Men  of  equal  prominence  in 
the  law  got  $50,000  and  $100,000,  in  single  cases. 
Popular  physicians  had  incomes  of  $50,000  per  annum. 
As  for  successful  men  of  business,  they  became  mill- 
ionaires. In  the  smallest  places  visited  by  Mr.  Gough, 
there  were  sure  to  be  men  who  had  made  fortunes 
out  of  some  patent  for  a  sleeve  cuff-button,  or  by  an 
invention  to  cut  up  hogs  more  expeditiously.  Why 
"  should  not  a  man  who  went  about  doing  good,"  and 
never  spoke  for  nearly  half  a  century  without  facing 
a  crowd  that  taxed  the  hall  or  church  in  which  he 
appeared,  make  money?  Mr.  Gough  did  not  accumu- 
late as  he  might  have  done,  because  he  had  many  and 
large  demands  on  his  purse.  "  Hillside  "  was  a  free 
hotel.  He  supported  a  number  of  people  wholly  or  in 
part;  some  who  had  only  a  sentimental  claim  upon  him. 
He  gave  or  lent  (which  he  found  equivalent  to  giving!) 
to  all  who  could  trump  up  a  decent  story  of  deserter 
want.  These  are  not  the  roads  to  wealth.  Hence,  his 


A   CHANGE    OF    BASE.  215 

chief  possessions  were  a  generous  heart  and  an  open- 
hand — a  few  thousands  only  remained  at  the  last  to 
divide  among  heirs. 

Mr.  Gough  was  sensitive  on  this  point.  He  made 
a  detailed  statement  of  his  average  receipts  for  lec- 
tures from  the  commencement  of  his  career  until  the 
period  of  the  war,  which  we  subjoin: 

Average  Average 

Year.  per  Lecture.     Year.  per  Lecture. 

1843 $  2.77  1854 $48.46 

1844 7-29  1855 50.14 

1845 1442  1856 63.73 

1846 20.52  1857 62.90 

1847 21.06  1858 47.88 

1848 17.28  1859 49-32 

1849 19.12  1860 60.10 

1850 24.36  1861 88.37 

1851 21.80  1862 90.83 

1852 21.67  1863 104.94 

1853 25.33 

Out  of  these  sums,  however,  came  all  his  expenses, 
including  a  traveling  companion  (usually  Mrs.  Gough, 
in  earlier  years,  and,  later,  either  an  agent  or  a  niece). 
From  the  year  1863  forward,  Mr.  Gough's  fees 
were  higher  than  the  highest  of  the  averages  he 
tabulates.  But  it  was  money  earned  and  merited, 
and  satisfactory  alike  to  the  payers  and  the  payee. 
In  connection  .with  his  table  of  receipt-,  Mr.  Gough 
says : 

"  Let  it  stand;  leaving  me  to  be  glad  that  to  the  temperance 
cause  will  be  given  the  honor  of  one  of  its  advocates  seeking 
to  advance  it  according  to  his  ability,  and  his  family  not  •  ask- 
ing bread'  when  he  is  laid  aside — his  work  done.  I  have  never 


"  Autobiography,"  pp.  247,  248. 


2l6  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

felt  it  an  honor  to  the  cause  that  its  chosen  workers  should  be 
so  ill-provided  for  in  its  service,  that  the  posthumous  testi- 
monial, or  the  earlier  subscription  paper,  should  be  the  only 
reliance  of  broken  health,  or  support  of  beloved  ones."  l 

The  years  immediately  following  the  temperance 
dvocate's  return  to  America  from  his  second  British 
ampaign  for  reform,  were  the  most  terrific   in  the 
istory  of  the  New  World — the  years  of  the  Civil  War. 
[e  was  a  loyal  American,  anti-slavery,  freedom-lov- 
ng,  and  therefore  intensely  sympathetic  with  the  effort 
o  emancipate  the  slaves  and   save  the  Union.     He 
cquitted  himself  as  a  patriot  should,  and  put  voice 
nd  purse  at  the  command  of  the  country  in  "  times 
that  tried  men's  souls."     We  yield  the  floor  to  Mr. 
Gough,  and  let  him  summarize   his  connection  with 
the  historic  struggle  in  his  own  language: 

"  I  did  what  I  could  in  aid  of  our  noble  soldiers  who  fought 
and  suffered  for  the  dear  old  flag,  and  the  perpetuity  of  the 
Union.  While  memory  serves  me,  I  shall  never  lose  out  of  it 
those  years  so  full  of  thrilling  interest,  from  the  first  cry  of  the 
'  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter,'  that  woke  the  echoes  of  the 
silent  streets  at  midnight.  Then  followed  the  running  to  and 
fro,  and  men's  voices  were  heard  like  the  lowmutterings  of  the 
coming  storm.  How  I  live  over  and  over  again  that  first 
dreadful,  half-waked  sense  of  the  nation  being  suddenly  called 
to  suffer  and  sacrifice.  Boys  seemed  to  have  become  men, 
and  men  more  manly  in  a  night.  Then  came  the  tramp  of 
armed  men,  not  for  review  but  service, — stern,  hard  service. 
How  men  sang  '  Glory,  Hallelujah ! '  in  the  streets  as  they 
marched,  while  women  wept.  How  vivid  is  the  remembrance 
of  the  sleepless  nights,  while  our  army  seemed  like  endangered 
absentees  from  home, — of  the  first  news  of  battle, — then  of 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  249. 


A   CHANGE   OF   BASE.  21 7 

disaster, — the  terrible  days  in  the  Chickahominy, — the  Wilder- 
ness,— the  suspense  about  Petersburg, — the  defeats  that  were 
but  steps  to  victory, — hope  and  fear  alternating, — then  how 
the  horizon  grew  brighter  as  we  came  to  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation, — and  through  all  this  the  long  lines  of  hospitals 
all  over  the  land,  full  of  suffering,  and  not  seldom,  too,  of  a 
glory  not  of  this  world, — the  homes  where  sorrow  came  and 
staid, — the  uncounted  heroisms, — the  shameful  defections, — 
and  the  quiet,  watchful,  trustful  attitude  of  the  black  race,  on 
either  side  of  which  such  powers  were  arrayed,  and  over  whose 
rights  this  long  conflict  really  raged,  while  the  whole  nation 
was  learning  to' suffer  and  be  strong.'  Not  until  many  years 
of  peace  shall  we  be  able  to  estimate  truly  the  times  when 
every  ear  was  strained  to  catch  tidings  from  every  breeze,  and 
the  years  were  full  of  the  most  sublime  history."  ' 


1  "  Autobiography,"  pp.  546  and  547. 


II. 

FETE   DAY    AT    "  HILLSIDE." 

MR.  AND  MRS.  GOUGH  had  no  children.  They  man- 
aged to  keep  their  house  full  of  little  ones  for 
all  that.  When  Mrs.  Gough's  younger  brother  died, 
in  1860,  he  left  his  widow  with  five  girls  and  a 
son.  Five  of  these  were  domesticated  at  "  Hillside." 
One  of  the  girls  (Mamie)  died  after  a  few  years.  The 
rest  were  fathered  and  mothered  by  John  and  Mary 
Gough,  and  trained  for  usefulness.  "Since  1860," 
he  remarks,  "  seven  children  have  been  members  of 
our  family;  so  if  children  are  sunbeams,  our  home 
has  been  bright  with  them." 

After  the  death  of  Mrs.  Jane  Gough,  Mr.  Gough's 
father  had  married  again.  A  half-brother  by  this 
marriage  had  come  to  "  Hillside  "  in  1848,  at  five  years 
of  age,  and  had  been  likewise  looked  after  and  settled 
in  life.  The  orator's  married  sister  had  three  sons. 
That  family  was  prosperous,  and  required  no  aid. 
The  half-brother  resided  in  Worcester.  The  sister's 
home  remained  in  Providence,  whither  she  had  gone 
at  her  marriage. 

In  1868,  November  24th,  the  twenty-fifth  anni- 
versary of  the  marriage  of  John  and  Mary  Gough  oc- 
curred. "  Let  us  have  a  silver  wedding !  "  cried  the 
young  folks  at  "  Hillside."  The  couple  immediately 


FETE    DAY    AT    "HILLSIDE."  2ig 

concerned,  shook  their  heads — they  would  not  come 
before  their  friends  as  beggars  of  presents,  and  wished 
the  celebration  to  be  confined  to  their  own  household. 
It  was  not  so  to  be.  The  date  became  known.  Friends 
in  Worcester  and  in  Boston  insisted  upon  a  demon- 
stration. Other  friends  across  the  sea  were  reached 
and  interested  by  correspondence.  The  Goughs 
finally  agreed  to  keep  open  house  on  the  occasion. 
Special  express  trains  ran  east  and  west,  to  and  from 
Worcester  for  the  f$te.  Free  coaches  were  driven 
from  the  city  to  "  Hillside  "  and  back  again.  Hun- 
dreds of  well-wishers  thus  appeared  and  disappeared. 
Refreshments  were  provided  in  abundance,  and  the 
tables,  set  both  in  the  dining  and  the  breakfast  rooms, 
were  occupied  by  a  constant  succession  of  guests. 
After  extending  their  congratulations,  visitors  wan- 
dered through  the  house,  admiring  the  nicknacks 
scattered  around,  each  one  a  gift,  and  thus  freighted 
with  significance, — the  silver  ink-stand  on  the  library 
table, — the  set  of  English  china,  with  a  portrait  of 
Mr.  Gough  on  each  piece, — the  superb  collection  of 
Cruikshankiana  (twelve  hundred  plates), — the  endless 
photographs  presented  by  different  temperance  soci- 
eties,— the  English  farewell  gift  of  plate,  in  1860, — 
the  welcome  signed  by  nearly  five  hundred  ministers 
of  all  denominations  on  his  return  to  the  United 
States, — the  memorials  signed  by  leading  citizens  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  in  honor  of  John  B.  Gough 
at  various  times, — above  all,  the  great  volumes  of  sig- 
natures to  the  temperance  pledge,  procured  by  Mr. 
Gough  himself,  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
in  number, — all  were  viewed,  commented  upon,  and 
carefully  replaced  where  found. 


220  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Public  exercises  were  held  in  the  "  Hillside  "  gym- 
nasium. Addresses  were  made  by  representative 
men,  valuable  presentations  of  silver  followed,  and 
one  of  the  recipients,  speaking  for  "self  and  Mary," 
replied  at  length.  We  give  his  closing  sentences: 

"  I  must  be  permitted  to  say  how  gratifying  it  is  to  me  on 
this  occasion  to  be  surrounded  by  so  many  of  my  Worcester 
friends.  You  knew  me,  many  of  you,  in  the  darkest  days  of  my 
life, — in  my  poverty  and  obscurity.  You  have  seen  me  among 
you,  going  in  and  coming  out  before  you  these  many  years. 
In  Worcester  I  signed  the  pledge;  in  Worcester  I  married;  in 
Worcester  I  have  lived  and  been  known  so  long ;  and  it  is  par- 
ticularly gratifying  to  me  to  know  that  you  who  know  me  best, 
should  see  fit  to  offer  this  splendid  testimonial  of  your  esteem 
and  confidence."  l 

The  presents  came  from  everywhere — across  the 
continent  and  across  the  sea.  They  were  very  nu- 
merous and  very  valuable,  and  hence  were- kept  in  a 
safe-deposit  vault.  But  their  highest  value  lay  in  the 
thought  and  esteem  of  which  they  were  the  visible  and 
beautiful  expression. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Mrs.  Gough  uttered  her 
feelings  in  the  following  letter,  addressed  to  the  Com- 
mittee of  Arrangements,  which  we  quote,  because  it 
refers  to  and  brings  out  a  trait  in  her  husband's  char- 
acter well  worthy  of  emphasis: 

"HILLSIDE,"  November  28,  1868. 

"  GENTLEMEN — As  I  return  to  the  accustomed  quiet  of  our 
home  again,  after  the  stir  and  anticipation  of  our  '  silver- 
wedding  '  day,  and  live  over  in  memory  the  brightness  of  that 
event,  I  feel  that  we  owe  you  no  common  thanks,  for  '  pleas- 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  543. 


FETE   DAY   AT    "HILLSIDE."  221 

ures  of  memory '  beyond  our  thought,  and  for  organizing  an 
opportunity  for  such  beautiful  expressions  of  good  will  as  met 
us  then. 

"  Whenever  we  look  over  the  receding  years,  it  will  hence- 
forth always  be  that  we  must  do  so  through  that  bright  day  in 
November,  1868,  when  yourselves  and  so  many  others  recog- 
nized so  delightfully  both  the  toils  and  the  results  of  those 
varnished  years. 

"  It  has  given  fresh  impulse  to  our  grateful  remembrance  of 
the  God  and  Saviour  who  has  led  us  so  lovingly  all  the  way; 
and  we  do  not  forget  that  He  has  ordered,  that  though  a  cool 
draught  by  the  wayside-spring  does  not  release  from  all  sense 
of  a  toilsome  path,  it  does  so  refresh  as  to  strengthen  for  the 
'hill  difficulty  '  of  the  future. 

"  In  all  the  kind  things  said  and  done  that  day  for  myself 
personally,  there  was  one  omission,  and  that  inevitable  under 
the  circumstances.  In  the  recognition  of  my  husband's  work 
and  life  in  the  past  twenty-five  years,  none  but  myself  could 
have  said  how  much  I  was  indebted  for  whatever  of  success  has 
been  my  own  in  our  united  lives,  to  the  generous  trust  and 
confidence,  the  unfailing  regard,  that  have  always  recognized 
our  interests  as  one, — which  have  left  head  and  hands  free, — 
made  such  a  thing  as  a  struggle  for  '  rights  '  unnecessary, — and 
rejoiced  in  such  fruitage  of  that  trust  and  love  as  makes  the 
bond  that  binds  us  together  so  much  stronger  than  twenty-five 
years  ago,  while  losing  not  the  greenness  and  freshness  of  its 
earlier  time. 

"  With  heartfelt  thanks  for  all  the  wide  and  substantial  sym- 
pathy expressed  on  that  occasion,  and  with  the  hope  that  the 
truest  peace  may  always  abide  in  the  homes  represented  at 
'  Hillside,'  on  that  day,  I  am,  gentlemen, 

"  Very  gratefully  yours, 

"MARY  E.  GOUGH."1 

Mr.  Gough's  little  "  Autobiography,"  prepared  and 


1  Autobiography,"  pp.  543,  544. 


222  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

published  at  the  outset  of  his  career,  had  been  so 
steadily  popular  and  useful,  that  his  friends  urged 
him  to  revise  and  enlarge  it,  and  bring  it  down  to  date. 
This  task  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  undertake.  The  re- 
sult was  the  large  volume  entitled,  "Autobiography 
and  Personal  Recollections  of  John  B.  Gough,"  which 
Cruikshank  partially  illustrated,  and  which  appeared  in 
1871.  "Tis  intensely  readable;  but  would  have  been  bet- 
ter had  some  literary  friend  revised  it.  This,  however, 
was  another  of  Mr.  Cough's  touchy  points.  He  never 
claimed  any  literary  ability;  but  he  did  wish  to  be 
thought  the  author  of  his  own  book.  So  much  had 
been  said  regarding  the  first  "Autobiography's"  not 
being  his  own  production,  that  he  resolved  to  fore- 
stall all  denial  of  his  paternal  relation  to  the  second, 
by  keeping  the  manuscript  and  proof-sheets  wholly 
in  his  own  hand.  He  thus  secured  his  credit  as  a 
writer,  but  injured  his  reputation  as  an  author. 

With  regard  to  the  disputed  authorship  of  the 
original  life,  he  says: 

"John  Ross  Dix,  then  calling  himself  John  Dix  Ross,  was 
an  inmate  of  my  family,  and  I.  pacing  the  room,  dictated  the 
matter  to  him,  he  being  a  good  shorthand  writer.  When  he 
had  copied  it  out,  we  read  it  together  and  made  alterations ; 
and  I  wish  to  state  that,  excepting  only  three,  or  at  most  four, 
instances,  my  language,  not  his,  was  used."  ' 

The  speaking  and  the  writing  habits  are  distinct. 
Great  speakers  have  seldom  been  great  writers.  The 
elaboration  and  condensation,  essential  in  composi- 
tion, refine  away  and  destroy  the  idiomatic  energy 
and  fire  which  make  the  charm  of  popular  oratory. 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  545. 


FETE    DAY    AT    "  HILLSIDE.  223 

Addison  said  he  could  not  think  without  a  pen  in  his 
hand.  A  pen  in  the  lips  usually  gags  the  most  elo- 
quent of  men.  Mr.  Gough  was  not  an  exception  to 
this  rule.  He  wrote  entertainingly,  but  often  incor- 
rectly. Inaccuracies,  unnoticed  in  the  rush  of  his 
utterances  on  the  platform,  insist  on  notice  in  cold 
type.  However,  the  autobiographer  never  aimed  at 
a  literary  reputation,  and  would  probably  have  dis- 
missed criticism,  as  Father  Taylor,  the  famous  pastor 
of  the  Boston  Seamen's  Bethel,  used  to  do — "  My 
verb  has  lost  its  nominative,  but  I'm  bound  for  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven!  " 


III. 


FOOTPRINTS    OF    RUM. 

• 

A  RUMSELLER  attended  one  of  Mr.  Gough's  lectures 
at  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  in  the  'seventies. 
The  speaker  had  referred  to  the  "damnable  results" 
of  the  liquor  traffic. 

"  Mr.  Gough,"  said  the  rumseller,  "  I've  been  in  the 
business  you  denounce  all  my  life — I  never  saw  the 
'damnable  results'  which  you  paint  in  such  lurid 
colors." 

"  Well,"  was  the  reply,  "  suppose  that,  standing 
here  in  Portsmouth,  you  should  take  a  gun  and  begin 
to  fire  it  across  the  Piscataqua  river  in  the  direction 
of  Kittery,  on  the  opposite  bank.  Presently,  some 
one  rushes  over  here  and  says,  '  Stop  that  firing! 
You've  killed  half  a  dozen  people  over  there  in  Kittery, 
already,'  'Pshaw!'  you  answer.  'I've  stood  here 
and  fired  a  good  many  times — I've  never  seen  any 
dead  folks.'  '  No,'  retorts  the  man  from  Kittery, 
'  because  you  are  not  where  they  are.  If  you  want  to 
know  the  facts  in  the  case  go  where  the  shots  strike.1 " 
We  propose  in  this  chapter  to  follow  Mr.  Gough  to 
the  places  where  the  shots  strike. 

He  had  been  struck  himself.  He  could  and  did 
speak  from  experience.  He  knew  that  the  first 
"damnable  result"  of  the  drink  is  felt  and  shown  by 


FOOTPRINTS    OF    RUM.  225 

the  victim.  His  nature  is  inverted.  The  will,  the 
heart,  the  actions  are  all  twisted  from  normal  into 
abnormal  relations.  A  rational  being  becomes  irra- 
tional. A  man  is  turned  into  a  devil.  Whiskey  "  sits 
as  God  in  the  temple  of  God."  The  drunkard's  lit- 
urgy is  mania  a  potu.  Self-respect  gone, — honor  gone, 
— natural  affection  gone, — industry  gone, — reputation 
gone, — property  gone; — such  are  the  common  concom- 
itants of  drunkenness. 

Mr.  Gough  tells  of  two  clergymen  of  whom  he  had 
personally  known.  The  first,  was  one  of  the  best 
Greek  scholars  of  the  day.  He  began  to  drink;  sank 
low  and  lower;  and  was  one  day  dragged  half- 
naked  from  under  the  bench  of  a  dive.  He  was  taken 
to  the  house  of  a  friend,  kept  there  four  weeks,  and 
sent  away  "  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind."  While  in 
the  house  of  his  benefactor  he  stole  postage-stamps 
to  exchange  for  liquor.  And  ten  days  after  he  went 
away,  he  was  discovered  sans  hat,  sans  coat,  sans 
shoes,  sans  everything, — drunk  and  begging  for  alms! 

The  second  of  this  clerical  brace  was  a  man  under 
whose  ministry  thousands  once  sat  with  profit. 
Drink  brought  him  so  low  that  he  often  preached  one 
or  another  of  his  old  sermons  in  the  bar-room  of  a 
tavern  to  degraded  men  and  dissolute  women  for  ten 
cents  ! 

"  I  saw  an  interesting  little  girl,  who  had  hip  com- 
plaint," says  Mr.  Gough.  "  Her  mother  sold  her  to  a 
villainous  tramp  for  two  pairs  of  stockings — then 
sold  the  stockings  and  got  drunk  on  the  proceeds." 

This  leads  us  to  call  attention  to  a  second  "  dam- 
nable result  "  of  drinking,  viz.,  its  domestic  ravages. 
Whatever  deteriorates  a  man  deteriorates  his  sur- 

15 


226  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

roundings,  and  especially  his  dependants.  The 
drunkard's  family  is,  by  common  consent,  the  most 
pitiable  of  objects.  "  I  have  witnessed  scenes,"  re- 
marks Mr.  Gough,  "  that  have  haunted  me  for  days. 
In  company  with  a  friend,  I  once  called  on  a  man 
who  had  formerly  been  a  gentleman  of  position,  but 
who  was  now  living  on  an  annuity  of  $500 — a  com- 
parative pittance  saved  from  the  wreck  of  his  fortune. 
His  wife,  a  woman  of  refinement,  had  been  very  ill. 
When  we  arrived  we  found  the  man  drunk,  sitting  by 
the  fire,  smoking,  the  wife  lying  dead  on  a  miserable 
pallet  in  the  room.  The  drunkard  was  making  a 
great  noise,  and  declaring  she  was  not  dead.  The 
gentleman  with  me  laid  his  hand  on  him  and  said  : 

" '  Now,  you  keep  still  ;  your  wife  lies  there  dead, 
and  I  will  not  permit  this  noise.' 

"  The  drunkard  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaiming  : 
"'  I'll  let  you  see  whether  she  is  dead  or  not.' 
"  Before  we  could  prevent,  he  sprang  like  a  demon 
to  the  bedside,  and  dealt  on  the  upturned  face  of  the 
dead  woman  a  terrific  blow  with  his  fist.    Oh,  I  heard 
the   sound  of  that  blow  for  weeks,  at  night  and  by 
day  !  " 

Here  are  some  extracts  from  a  letter  written  in 
Philadelphia  to  Mr.  Gough,  revealing  scenes  in  a 
domestic  tragedy  in  that  city  : 

"  Some  few  years  ago  I  was  in  business  at   No.  30  Market 

street,  at  which  time  a  man  named  J C applied  to  me 

for  work.  He  was  quite  genteel  in  appearance,  and  I  gave 
him  work,  which  was  satisfactorily  done.  For  some  time  I 
continued  to  employ  him  ;  but  he  seldom  came  himself  for  or 
with  his  jobs.  His  wife  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  the 
store,  and  on  one  occasion  I  asked  her  why  John  did  not  him- 


FOOTPRINTS    OF    RUM.  227 

self  bring  in  the  work,  when  she  reluctantly  told  me  of  her 
fears  to  trust  him  out,  if  it  could  be  avoided,  lest  in  his  weak- 
ness he  should  drink  to  excess,  when  he  was  sure  to  abuse 
her.  So  long  as  he  kept  from  liquor,  however,  he  was  affec- 
tionate, industrious,  and  as  good  a  husband  as  any  woman 
could  wish  for." 

After  relating  scenes  of  distress,  imprisonment, 
brutality  almost  beyond  belief— revelations  of  sicken- 
ing and  revolting  cruelty — he  goes  on  : 

"  They  had  adopted  a  child,  and  John  was  very  fond  of  the 
babe,  and  his  wife  became  very  much  attached  to  it. 

"  He  left  home  one  morning  early,  came  back  about  eleven 
o'clock;  he  was  drunk,  and  he  then  said  that  it  was  time  the 
child  had  gone  after  its  mother — that  he  was  not  going  to  be 
troubled  with  other  people's  brats.  However,  he  soon  went 
out  again,  and  did  not  return  home  until  just  about  dusk. 
When  he  staggered  up-stairs,  the  windows  in  the  room  were 
raised,  as  the  weather  was  quite  warm.  His  wife  was  just  in 
the  act  of  lighting  the  lamp  as  John  went  over  to  the  settee, 
upon  which  she  had  just  laid  the  child.  Without  a  single 
word,  he  picked  up  the  child  and  threw  it  out  the  window. 
The  woman  flew  down  the  stairs  to  the  street,  and  there  she 
found  the  babe — it  was  dead;  the  head  was  smashed.  She 
fainted  at  the  sight.  Oh,  it  was  horrible  !  A  crowd  soon  col- 
lected. She  was,  with  the  child,  taken  into  the  house.  And 
now  she  was  in  a  dilemma;  her  husband  was  a  murderer,  and 
yet  she  loved  him  still  ;  for  she  knew,  or  felt  then,  that  it  was 
not  his  nature  to  commit  a  violent  wrong,  save  when  his  action 
was  controlled  by  rum.  She  therefore  sought  by  stratagem  to 
release  him  from  any  charge,  and  battled  a  little  while  with 
her  conscience,  and  then,  with  grief  and  sorrow  depicted  on 
her  countenance,  she  told  these  persons  around  her  that  she 
had  been  sitting  at  the  window  with  the  child  in  her  arms, 
where  she  had  fallen  asleep,  and  that  the  child  rolled  out  of 
her  arms  and  fell  to  the  pavement.  Unfortunately  for  her,  she 


228  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

was  believed.  The  child  was  buried,  and  there  was  nothing 
afterward  said  about  it.  John  sometimes  spoke  of  it,  but  never 
without  bringing  tears  in  his  eyes.  She  believed  that  he  never 
forgave  himself  for  having  committed  the  murder." 

The  man's  habits  grew  worse.  At  last,  after  suffer- 
ing the  torments  of  the  damned,  his  wife  left  him. 
He  could  not  discover  her  whereabouts.  The  writer 
goes  on  : 

"  One  Sunday  he  came  to  my  house,  and.  as  he  appeared  to 
be  sober,  I  invited  him  in.  He  apologized  for  calling  on 
Sunday,  but  wished  to  know  if  his  wife  still  worked  for  me,  or 
if  I  had  seen  her  lately.  I  told  him  she  had  done  no  work  for 
me  for  many  months,  and  that  the  last  time  I  saw  her  she  told 
me  she  was  living  in  New  Jersey.  He  then  said  that  he  met 
her  in  the  street  the  night  before  (Saturday) ;  that  she  would 
not  speak  to  him ;  and  that  if  he  could  find  her  he  would  kill 
her.  He  appeared  much  irritated.  I  then  talked  with  him, 
and  tried  to  convince  him  that  he  alone  was  in  fault ;  that  if 
he  would  abandon  rum  there  was  no  doubt  happiness  in  store 
for  him  ;  that  I  would  give  him  employment ;  and  that  if  he 
would  keep  sober  and  industrious  his  wife  would  find  it  out 
and  return  to  him.  I  suppose  he  staid  an  hour;  and  before 
he  left  he  became  softened,  and  promised  to  reform. 

"  On  the  following  Sunday,  about  noon,  as  I  was  walking  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Exchange,  I  saw  a  crowd  around  a 
bulletin  board.  I  crossed  over,  and  judge  of  my  surprise  when  I 
read  as  follows  : '  Horrid  Murder  f  Last  evening,  at  nine  o'clock, 

a  man  named  John  C ,  a  tailor  by  trade,  followed  his  wife 

into  a  house  in  Front  street,  below  South  street.  She  had  been 
out  in  the  street  for  a  bucket  of  water  ;  he  saw  and  followed 
her  up  into  the  third  story,  when  he  stabbed  her  in  forty  differ- 
ent places.  The  screams  attracted  persons  to  the  spot  ;  and 
when  they  attempted  to  take  hold  of  him,  he  cut  himself  across 
the  stomach,  and  died  in  a  few  moments,  having  committed  a 


FOOTPRINTS   OF   RUM.  229 

double  murder.     At  the  inquest,  it  was  proved  that  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  rum.'" 

These  incidents  suggest  a  third  "damnable  result" 
of  this  appetite — crime.  The  chaplain  of  a  prison 
once  told  Mr.  Gough  that  seven-ninths  of  the  com- 
mitments there  were  due  to  drink.  Statistics  show 
that  three-fourths  of  the  crimes  would  be  uncom- 
mitted, and  that  three-fourths  of  the  prisons  would 
be  empty  and  useless,  were  it  not  for  liquor.  The 
Bench  and  the  Bar  corroborate  the  statisticians.  The 
courts,  the  police,  the  whole  repressive  machinery  of 
government,  from  the  arrest  up  to  the  gallows, — are 
the  bubbles  that  float  on  a  glass  of  rum.  Mr.  Gough 
quotes  an  ex-convict  as  writing: 

"  During  my  stay  in  prison,  the  question  kept  rising  in  my 
mind,  what  brings  all  these  men  here  ?  Day  after  day  I  asked 
those  with  whom  I  came  in  contact,  what  brought  them  to 
prison?  I  got  as  an  answer  the  same  dull,  dismal  old  story, 
over  and  over  again — rum  did  it." 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Gough,  Canon  Farrar  refers  to 
an  English  temperance  newspaper  which  habitually 
publishes  a  ghastly  column  called,  "  Fruits  of  the 
Traffic,"  made  up  of  clippings  from  the  daily  press, 
and  adds:  "  This  column  records  calamity  after  calam- 
ity, crime  after  crime,  shipwrecks,  conflagrations, 
kickings  and  tramplings  of  women,  maimings  and 
murders  of  children, — all  of  which  are  directly  attrib- 
uted to  the  effects  of  drink,  by  the  declarations  of 
judges,  by  the  reiterated  testimony  of  witnesses,  and 
by  the  constant,  remorseful  confessions  of  the  crimi- 
nals themselves." 

Experts,  like  Judge  Noah  Davis,  of  New  York,  and 


?30  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Mr.  Fred  H.  Wines,  together  with  a  host  of  experi- 
enced and  impartial  observers,  confirm  Mr.  Gough's 
"  exaggerations,"  because  they  have  seen  where  the 
shots  strike. 

A  fourth  "  damnable  result  "  is  the  cost.  Mr.  Gough 
figured  it  out  in  three  columns.  In  the  first  column, 
he  set  down  the  effects  of  liquor  upon  the  individual, 
the  family,  and  the  State,  as  outlined  in  this  chapter: 
this  he  called  the  moral  cost.  In  the  second  column, 
he  placed  the  direct  amounts  expended  for  liquor 
per  annum;  in  the  'seventies,  $750,000,000:  this  he 
called  the  money  cost  to  the  consumers.  In  the  third 
column,  he  put  the  resultant  pauperism,  ;nsanity, 
sickness,  and  crime.  Three-fourths  of  the  pauperism, 
three-fourths  of  the  insanity,  three-fourths  of  the 
sickness,  and  three-fourths  of  the  crime  are  the  spawn 
of  drinking  habits.1  Ciphering  out  the  expenses  thus 
entailed,  and  adding  it,  the  advocate  of  temperance 
set  down  the  stupendous  total  of  $1,350,000,000!  This 
he  called  the  indirect  cost.  Combining  the  totals  of 
the  second  and  third  columns  (for  'tis  impossible  to 
estimate  the  groans  and  tears  and  sorrows  of  the 
first),  Mr.  Gough  showed  the  aggregate  annual  cost 
of  the  traffic  in  intoxicants  in  the  United  States,  to 
be  $2,000,000,000. 

The  only  possible  offset  to  this  sum,  is  the  revenue 
paid  by  liquor  to  the  Federal,  State,  and  local  author- 
ities— $135,000,000.  So  that  the  yearly  cost  to  the 
American  people  of  this  trade  is  TWO  THOUSAND  MIL- 
LIONS of  hard  dollars  (less  the  $135,000,000  returned 


1  Vide  "  Cyclopaedia  of  Temperance,"  Article  on  "Cost  of  the 
Drink  Traffic." 


FOOTPRINTS    OF    RUM.  23! 

in  taxes  and  licences)  — without  going  into  the  im- 
possible mathematics  of  the  degradation  and  misery 
produced  by  it!  '  Nor  did  John  B.  Gough  leave  the 
matter  here.  Having  traced  the  footprints  of  rum, 
he  proceeded  to  ask: 

Are  we  to  pass  from  chamber  to  chamber  of  this  great 
temple  of  abominations,  and  look  at  what  we  see,  as  though  it 
were  a  cabinet  of  curiosities,  and  gaze  coldly  on  all  these  scenes 
of  shame  and  horror  that  are  painted  on  its  walls  ;  or  are  we 
to  l)e  aroused  by  these  facts  merely  to  talk  the  vague  language 
of  philanthropy,  and  to  sigh  over  wretchedness,  while  we  do 
not  so  much  as  lift  a  single  finger  to  help  the  wretched  ?  "2 

In  the  footprints  of  rum  Mr.  Gough  recognized 
the  cloven  foot  of  the  devil.  And  he  believed  it  to  be 
the  coequal  duty  of  Church  and  State  to  arrest  and 
chain  this  devil  for  two  thousand  million  years — a 
year  for  every  dollar  he  cost  the  country  in  a  twelve- 
month. 


1  This  cost  annually  increases    at  the  rate  of  from  $40, 000,000  to 
$50,000,000. 

2  The  facts  and  statements  in  this  chapter  are  taken  from  "  Sun- 
light and  Shadow,"  chaps,  xviii  and  xix.    See  also  "  Cyclopaedia  of 
Temperance,"  in  loco. 


PART   X. 
The  Third  Rnglish  Visit 


"Ah,  how  good  it  feels! 
The  hand  of  an  old  friend." 

—  LONGFELLOW,  Christus,  Part  III. 


I. 


AFTER    EIGHTEEN    YEARS. 

ON  the  xoth  of  July,  1878,  Mr.  Gough  accompanied 
by  his  wife  and  two  nieces,  sailed  for  Britain  once 
more,  to  be  gone  for  an  indefinite  time.  His  object 
was  rest,  and  not  campaigning.  But,  in  compliance 
with  urgent  requests,  he  consented  to  make  thirty 
public  addresses  at  strategic  points. 

The  voyage  was  pleasant.  Liverpool  was  safely 
and  duly  reached.  There  it  seemed  as  though  all 
temperance  England  had  turned  out  to  welcome  the 
world-famous  native  of  Sandgate.  "  The  National 
Temperance  League,"  the  "  United  Kingdom  Alli- 
ance "  (former  rivals,  now,  happily,  in  harmony), 
bands  of  hope,  cold-water  armies,  local  organizations, 
large  numbers  of  reformed  men,  many  of  them 
rescued  by  Mr.  Gough's  eloquence  or  personal  efforts, 
all  with  banners  flying,  the  rub-a-dub-dub  of  drums, 
the  blare  of  music,  and  hearty  British  cheers — extended 
a  national  greeting,  and  made  the  scene  an  epoch. 
The  address  of  welcome  contained  the  names  of  one 
hundred  thousand  teetotalers  ! 

By-the-by,  Mr.  Gough  gives  the  origin  of  the  term 
teetotal.  "  At  a  meeting  in  Preston,  England,  he 
says,  at  which  Joseph  Livesey  (one  of  the  founders  of 
the  temperance  movement  in  England)  presided,  a 


236  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

man  named  Dickey  Turner  said  :  '  Mr.  Chairman,  I 
finds  as  how  the  lads  gets  drunk  on  ale  an'  cider,  an* 
we  can't  keep  'em  sober  unless  we  have  the  pledge 
total ;  yes,  Mr.  Chairman,  tee-tee-total.'  The  man 
was  a  stammerer,  and  the  term  was  born  of  his 
stammer.  For  Mr.  Livesey  instantly  replied  :  '  Well 
done,  Dickey — we  will  have  it  teetotal  !  "  '  Then 
and  there  the  first  English  total  abstinence  society 
was  formed. 

From  Liverpool,  with  his  right  hand  aching  and 
his  ears  ringing,  the  tourist  went  to  London — magnifi- 
cent and  splendid  ;  rich,  and  poverty-stricken  ;  sober 
and  drunken;  Christian,  and  pagan  —  to  change 
Dryden  a  little — 

"  A  town  so  various  that  it  seemed  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome." 

Here  there  was  another  hurricane  of  hospitable 
enthusiasm.  A  garden-party  was  given  in  his  honor 
in  the  grounds  of  Westminster  Abbey.  Mr.  Gough 
remarks  : 

"  If  it  is  true  that  there  are  '  sermons  in  stones,'  where  shall 
we  go  for  a  better  sermon  than  to  Westminster  Abbey  ? 
It  stands  gray  and  hoary  and  majestic,  rich  with  the  memories 
of  the  past,  and  consecrated  with  the  bones  and  ashes  and 
reputations  of  the  great !  All  that  Britain  contained  or  con- 
tains of  the  illustrious  or  good,  of  genius  or  culture,  have 
trodden  its  aisles,  have  come  hither  to  worship,  to  admire,  to 
mourn,  or,  it  may  be,  after  life's  fitful  fever,  to  sleep.  Here 
majesty,  amidst  pomp  and  splendor,  has  assumed  the  crown, 
and  amid  equal  pomp  and  circumstance  has  laid  it  down ;  here 
the  nation  has  mourned  the  bard  whose  verse  is  as  immortal 


"  Platform  Echoes,"  p.  550. 


AFTER    EIGHTEEN    YEARS.  237 

as  her  tongue;   and  here  she  has  wept  the  greatest  of  her 
statesmen — dead."  J 

For  the  benefit  of  untraveled  readers,  and  to  locate 
the  scene,  Mr.  Gough  adds:  "  In  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Abbey  we  are  in  the  center  of  English  civiliza- 
tion, and  near  the  brain  of  government — that  Down- 
ing street  from  which  England,  Scotland,  Wales, 
Ireland,  aye,  and  lands  remote,  peopled  by  alien  races, 
professing  alien  creeds,  speaking  alien  tongues,  are 
ruled;  Royalty  resides  in  close  proximity;  and  in 
ermined  gown  and  solemn  wig  and  official  pomp,  the 
proud  Peers  of  Britain  assemble  to  legislate,  not  a 
stone's-throw  from  this  sacred  shrine."  a 

Here,  then,  under  the  walls  of  historic  Westminster, 
within  sight  of  St.  Stephen's,  the  teetotaler  was  feted. 
Around  him  thronged  friends  new  and  old — among 
the  former,  the  American  minister,  and  Dr.  Arthur  P. 
Stanley,  Dean  of  the  Abbey,  already  an  historic  figure 
in  life,  who  spoke  words  of  welcome,  and  personally 
played  the  cicerone  to  his  guest;  among  the  latter  such 
of  the  "  old  guard  "  as  survived— for  eighteen  years 
form  a  Niagara  of  fate  into  which  friends  as  well  as 
enemies  pour,  and  are  lost  in  the  ghastly  spray! 
Cruikshank,  Dr.  Guthrie,  William  Arnot,  and  many 
more,  were  missing;  and  the  thought  of  them,  and 
the  heartache,  brought  a  mist  of  tears  into  the  visi- 
tor's eyes  while  smiles  were  on  his  face — a  rainbow 
athwart  a  storm-cloud. 

After  two  or  three  weeks  in  the  metropolis,  during 
which  Mr.  Gough  and  the  ladies  with  him  were  the 
recipients  of  marked  social  honors,  the  party  crossed 


1 "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  34.  * "  Sunliglit  and  Shadow,"  p.  34. 


238  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

to  the  Continent.  We  will  not  follow  them  thither. 
They  revisited  the  old  haunts,  snuggled  into  some 
new  ones,  but  upon  the  whole  had  a  wet  time,  as  the 
weather  was  persistently  unpropitious.  Tourist  life 
on  the  Continent  is  absolutely  dependent  on  sunshine 
— a  butterfly  existence  while  it  lasts.  Hence,  the 
Goughs,  discouraged  by  the  patter,  patter,  patter  of 
the  rain,  scudded  back  to  London,  and  took  lodgings 
at  No.  185  Piccadilly.  They  were  gone  a  month. 

We  suspect,  if  the  truth  were  told,  that  the  busy 
American,  like  most  Yankees,  natural  or  naturalized, 
took  his  pleasures  sadly,  and  rather  hurried  the  ladies 
on  this  trip.  He  was  so  used  to  work  that  he  made 
work  of  play.  To  do  nothing  but  gape,  and  eat,  and 
sleep,  and  wake  to  gape  again,  made  the  restless  lec- 
turer more  fidgety  than  ever.  He  had  no  time  for 
this — he  had  just  arrived;  and  no  time  for  that — he 
was  just  departing.  Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well  for 
all  concerned,  that  he  should  perspire  back  to  smoky 
London,  where  he  would  surely  find  plenty  to  do, 
and  vary  his  idleness.  What  a  second  nature  habit 
is  !  Those  easy-going  saunterers  on  the  Parisian 
boulevards  might  have  taught  the  rushing  American 
how  to  moderate  his  pace  and  enjoy  himself.  He 
could  certainly  have  taught  them  how  to  quicken 
their  saunter  into  usefulness,  and  find  enjoyment  in 
the  service  of  men.  'Tis  pity  they  could  not  have 
swopped  habits  for  awhile. 

Mr.  Gough's  initial  speech  was  made  in  Mr.  Spur- 
geon's  Metropolitan  Tabernacle,  on  Tuesday  evening 
September  22d,  to  an  audience  of  over  seven  thou- 
sand people,  with  Sir  Charles  Reed,  Member  of  Par- 
liament, a  prominent  man  "  in  the  city,"  and  a  total 


AFTER    EIGHTEEN    YEARS.  239 

abstainer  in  the  chair.  The  speaker  repeated  his 
earlier  oratorical  and  moral  triumphs.  Although  now 
past  sixty  years  of  age,  rotund  in  form,  with  Rip  Van 
Winkle  beard  and  half-gray  hair,  his  hearers  of 
eighteen  years  before  marked  no  diminution  in  his 
fire  on  the  platform  or  his  zeal  off  of  it;  while  the 
new  generation  acquainted  with  his  name  as  a  doubt- 
ful tradition,  heard  and  saw  for  themselves,  and  were 
convinced  that  their  elders  had  not  exaggerated,  and 
could  not  overstate  the  happy  fact. 

The  scene  in  Mr.  Spurgeon's  vast  church,  was  re- 
peated at  each  of  the  lecturer's  thirty  appearances  in 
various  parts  of  Britain.  But  what  amazed  and  de- 
lighted Mr.  Gough  was  the  discovery  that  the  cause, 
of  old  denounced  as  fanaticism  or  weak  sentimental- 
ity, was  now  established  upon  a  sure  basis  of  recog- 
nized common  sense,  and  had  won  to  its  advocacy  and 
practise  very  many  of  the  most  able  and  prominent 
of  Englishmen — and  in  all  walks  of  life.  A  quarter 
of  a  century  earlier,  ay,  even  eighteen  years  before,  it 
had  been  difficult  to  get  anybody  who  was  anybody 
to  preside  at  a  teetotal  meeting.  Now  it  was  a  mere 
question  of  selection — the  available  celebrities  were 
countless.  The  New  England  teetotaler  recites  with 
justifiable  pride  the  names  and  titles  of  some  of  the 
chairmen  at  his  meetings  in  1878.  As  he  enumerates 
them,  there  flit  before  us  the  men  who  made  and 
marked  Great  Britain  in  the  middle  of  the  nine- 
teenth century:  Samuel  Morley,  one  of  the  merchant 
princes  and  philanthropists  of  London,  "a  tall,  well- 
made  man,  with  serious,  but  intelligent  and  attractive 
face  " — Canon  Farrar,  as  well  known  abroad  as  at 
home,  and  author  of  the  most  popular  of  all  recent 


240  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

lives  of  Christ — William  Lawson,  M.P.,  with  an  in- 
come of  $500,000  a  year,  a  "jolly  good  fellow,"  but 
not  in  the  bacchanalian  sense,  one  of  the  wittiest  men 
then  in  public  life — the  two  leading  physicians  of  the 
day,  Dr.  Richardson  and  Sir  Henry  Thompson, 
equally  eminent  as  authors  in  their  profession — the 
Lord  High  Chancellor,  Earl  Cairns,  standing  next  to 
the  throne  in  official  circles,  and  chairman  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  "  a  stately  man,  of  chastened  elo- 
quence, who  did  not  need  his  gown  and  wig,  or  a  seat 
on  the  woolsack,  to  impress  the  beholder" — the  Duke 
of  Westminster,  "a  small,  thin,  dark-complexioned 
man,  not  celebrated  as  an  orator,"  nor  needing  such 
celebrity  since  he  had  enough  as  the  wealthiest  man 
in  England — Samuel  Bowly,  a  "city"  magnate,  tall, 
erect,  and  manly,  who  showed  at  seventy  how  well 
teetotalers  can  bear  "  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  " 
— Sir  Fitzroy  Kelly,  Lord  Chief  Baron  of  England, 
"with  a  fine,  expressive  countenance,  and  a  wonder- 
ful power  in  his  delivery,  standing  perfectly  still,  no 
gesture,  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  simply  talking" — John  Bright,  an  old  friend, 
new-met,  greatest  of  England's  orators  in  our  day, 
and  the  friend  of  America  when  she  needed  friends 
in  England; — these, and  many  others,  were  pronounced 
abstainers,  and  lent  Mr.  Gough  the  luster  of  their 
presence  when  he  spoke. 

Quite  as  remarkable  was  the  change  in  the  attitude 
of  the  Established  Church  towards  temperance  re- 
form and  reformers.  Previously,  a  teetotal  clergy- 
man of  the  Church  of  England  was  as  rare  as  a  white 
blackbird.  Now,  most  of  the  blackbirds  had  turned 
white  !  Ecclesiastical  dignitaries  crowded  one  an- 


AFTER    EIGHTEEN    YEARS.  241 

other  in  their  willingness  to  be  identified  with  the 
"Hillside"  teetotaler  while  on  his  third  circuit,  and 
jostled  against  civil  officials,  also  "  willin ',"  like  Bar- 
kis. Canon  Farrar  presided  twice  when  Mr.  Gough 
spoke  in  Exeter  Hall.  Dr.  Temple,  the  Bishop  of 
Exeter — the  successor,  before  he  entered  the  episco- 
pate, of  Dr.  Arnold,  as  master  of  the  famous  school 
at  Rugby — was  in  the  chair  when  Mr.  Gough  lectured 
at  Plymouth.  At  Croydon,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester 
presided;  at  Owestry,  the  Bishop  of  Bedford;  at  Ox- 
ford, Canon  Ellison;  at  Southampton,  Bishop  (then 
Canon)  Wilberforce;  at  York,  the  Dean  of  the  famous 
cathedral  there;  at  Swansea,  the  Honorable  Wm. 
Henry  Fox  Talbot,  a  savant,  with  medals  enough  to 
furnish  a  museum,  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  "  father 
of  the  House  of  Commons";  in  Dublin,  the  Lord- 
Mayor;  and  in  Glasgow  the  Lord-Provost,  who  also 
entertained  the  Goughs  at  his  palatial  residence.  At 
Rochdale  three  Mayors  were  on  the  platform  ('tis  to 
be  hoped  the  speaker  was  quieter  than  usual  that 
night!) — his  Honor  of  Rochdale  in  the  chair,  and 
their  Honors  of  Bury  and  of  Oldham,on  either  hand, 
in  the  full  insignia  of  their  office. 

Really,  temperance  had  become  fashionable  in  the 
very  realm  of  Bass's  ale.  Nor  did  the  unwonted 
presence  of  these  grandees  abash  the  orator  or  dull 
the  edge  of  his  incisiveness.  In  one  of  his  London 
speeches  he  said: 

"  Last  Sunday,  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock,  I  went  down 
to  the  locality  known  as  '  Seven  Dials.'  I  went  to  see  what  could 
be  seen  there.  There  were  crowds  of  people  in  the  street. 
Many  persons  were  surrounding  an  earnest  temperance 
reformer,  who  was  telling  them  some  wholesome  truths.  I 
16 


242  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

looked  at  the  people.  There  was  one  woman  who  seemed  to 
me  to  have  but  one  garment  on  her.  It  was  a  cold  day.  She 
stood  shivering  in  the  cold,  but  she  had  three  pence  in  her 
hand,  and  stood  watching  the  door  of  '  The  Grapes.'  I  saw 
men  hanging  about,' licking  their  white  lips, — waiting  for  those 
doors  to  open  at  one  o'clock.1  I  saw  boys  and  girls  of  fifteen 
years  of  age,  in  the  most  wretched  state  of  poverty.  My  heart 
ached  as  I  saw  those  crowds  waiting  for  the  public-houses  to 
open,  all  having  their  few  pence  clenched  in  their  hands.  The 
temperance  reformer  who  spoke  to  them,  said  :  '  Why,  some  of 
you  haven't  got  any  shirts  on,  and  yet  you  are  going  to  pay  the 
money  that  should  go  to  buy  some  into  the  brewery.  What  is 
the  consequence  ?  The  consequence  is  that  you  are  shirtless, 
and  that  the  people  who  ought  to  be  engaged  in  supplying 
what  you  need,  are  without  employment,  because  the  ware- 
houses are  overstocked.  Why  don't  you  buy,  and  make  a 
market  for  linen,  shirting,  and  leather,  instead  of  making  a 
market  for  beer,  when  you  get  nothing  but  misery  by  it  ?  ' 

"  I  stood  and  looked  at  the  crowd,  and  then  looked  all  over 
the  front  of  that  public-house ;  and  (I  speak  my  own  senti- 
ments) as  I  looked  at  the  names  on  the  sign — 

"  '  Trueman,  Han  bury,  and  Buxton,' 

I  thought — so  help  me  God ! — I  would  not  have  my  name  on 
such  a  place  for  all  the  money  spent  in  drink,  and  that  is  £160  - 
000,000  sterling  a  year.  It  is  to  me  astounding  that  in  Eng- 
land men  should  get  their  living  and  make  money,  and  grow 
rich  out  of  the  pennies  of  the  poor."  * 

Great  as  the  growth  of  temperance  sentiment  had 
been,  Mr.  Gough  realized,  as  he  moved  about,  that  it 
must  be  even  greater  if  England  would  witness  the 
abolition  of  her  most  appalling  curse. 

But  it   was  encouraging  to  find   the  attention  of 


1  In  London,  public-houses  were  closed  until  that  liour  on  Sunday. 

2  "  Platform  Echoes,"  pp.  608,  609. 


AFTER  EIGHTEEN  YEARS.  243 

Church  and  State  directed  to  it,  and  the  public  con- 
science wide  awake. 

Among  those  with  whom  Mr.  Gough  became  in- 
timate at  this  time  were  Joseph  Barker  and  the  late 
Charles  H.  Spurgeon.  He  made  pen-sketches  of  both 
of  them.  With  regard  to  the  former  he  writes  : 

"  Dr.  Parker  is  a  remarkable  man.  I  often  walked  twice  on 
the  Sabbath  from  Piccadilly  to  Holborn  Viaduct,  a  distance  of 
two  miles  each  way,  and  felt  amply  repaid  for  my  eight  miles' 
walk.  .  .  .  Let  me  give  my  impressions  on  hearing  him 
for  the  first  time.  His  first  words  revealed  a  magnificent 
voice.  The  reading  of  the  hymn  convinced  one  that  he  had 
studied  elocution.  The  impressive  manner  in  which  he  uttered 
the  sentence,  '  Let  us  worship  God,'  showed  his  perfect  control 
over  every  intonation  ;  and  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  mani- 
fested his  knowledge  of  the  power  of  appropriate  emphasis. 
The  prayer  was  beyond  and  above  criticism.  In  the  beginning 
of  his  discourse  I  was  disturbed  and  annoyed  by  his  manner, 
entirely  new  to  me — thoroughly  different  from  anything  I  had 
ever  seen  ;  but  I  soon  forgot  his  manner  in  the  intense  interest 
awakened  by  the  sermon.  .  .  .  His  utterance  of  words  and 
sentences  was  occasionally  startling.  Once,  in  speaking  of  the 
bulwarks  that  were  being  broken  down  in  these  days  of  lax 
living  and  lax  doctrine  in  the  church,  he  said  of  one  doctrine 
after  another,  gone!  the  Devil, gone!  and  God — going !  No 
one  can  imagine  the  force  and  power  of  the  intonation." ' 

The  American  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Dr.  Parker's 
house,  where  he  found  the  great  preacher  "  childlike 
— not  childish."  Their  interchange  of  thought  and 
feeling  was  free  and  stimulating.  Referring  to  the 
charge  of  egotism  made  against  Dr.  Parker,  he  says  : 

"What   man,  conscious  of  great  power,  with  an  influence 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  397  and  399. 


244  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

sufficient  to  establish  and  maintain  a  church  so  complete  in  all 
its  appointments,  and  with  the  ability  to  keep  an  audience 
week  after  week  and  year  after  year,  filling  the  spacious  edifice, 
with  no  diminution  but  rather  an  increase,  till  the  place  is  be- 
coming too  strait;  sustaining  a  Thursday-noon  lecture  at- 
tended by  thoughtful  men  who  crave  and  can  only  be  satisfied 
with  strong  meat,  and  being  able  to  meet  all  the  demands  of 
the  intellectual  throngs  who  attend  his  ministry ;  I  ask,  what 
man,  conscious  of  all  this,  must  not  necessarily  be  self-con- 
fident, or  rather  self-reliant,  and  that  not  offensively  ?  There 
are  some  men  so  painfully  conscious  of  their  defects,  short- 
comings, and  failings,  as  not  to  realize  and  be  thankful  for  the 
gifts  God  has  given  them — so  excessively  humble  that  their 
superfluity  of  humility  is  as  painful  to  witness  as  the  egotism 
of  another."  ' 

Mr.  Gough  heard  Mr.  Spurgeon  away  back  at  the 
time  when  both  made  their  London  entree.  With  a 
limited  education  (four  years  at  a  common  school  in 
Colchester,  and  a  few  months  in  an  agricultural  col- 
lege at  Maidstone),  the  inspired  boy  preached  his 
first  metropolitan  sermon  to  a  congregation  of  two 
hundred  people  in  a  church  (Park  Chapel)  that  seated 
twelve  hundred.  "  Before  three  months,"  says  Mr. 
Gough,  "  the  question  in  London  was  -  I  remember 
it  well  in  1853 — '  Who  is  this  Spurgeon  ? ' ' 

He  appreciatively  notes  the  successive  upward  steps 
in  the  career  of  his  friend: 

"  In  one  year  Park  Chapel  was  enlarged,  during  which  time 
Spurgeon  preached  in  Exeter  Hall.  It  was  in  that  hall  that  I 
first  heard  him,  as  a  young  man  drawing  immense  audiences. 
He  had  secured  the  ear  of  the  people.  In  1856  Park  Chapel 
was  inadequate  to  receive  the  crowds  who  flocked  to  hear  him, 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  394. 


AFTER    KTGHTFFN    YKARS.  245 

and  the  Royal  Surrey  Gardens  Music  Hall  was  engaged. 
Here  he  preached  to  twelve  thousand  people  every  Sunday 
until  the  present  Tabernacle  was  finished — in  1861.  This  seats 
five  thousand  and  five  hundred  persons,  with  standing-room 
for  one  thousand  more.  When  the  Church  removed  from  Park 
Chapel  it  had  eleven  hundred  and  seventy-eight  members.  In 
1877  the  membership  was  five-thousand  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
two.  The  immense  amount  of  work  performed  by  this  one 
man  is  astonishing.  He  has  published  fifteen  hundred  ser- 
mons in  volumes,  and  more  than  one  hundred  singly.  He  has 
published  a  commentary  on  the  Psalms  in  five  volumes  called 
the  '  Treasury  of  David.'  He  has  issued  sixteen  other  works, 
beside  compiling  a  hymn-book,  conducting  a  monthly  maga- 
zine, and  writing  prefaces  and  introductions  to  other  men's 
works."1 

Mr.  Gough,  like  every  one  else  who  heard  him,  was 
instantly  attracted  by  Spurgeon's  voice  —  "rich, 
melodious,  under  perfect  control.  Twelve  thousand 
people  could  hear  him  distinctly  in  the  open  air, 
twenty  thousand  in  the  Crystal  Palace." 

He  drove  Mr.  Gough  out  to  see  his  "  Orphanage," 
at  Stockwell,  where  there  was  then  two  hundred  and 
forty  orphans;  and  the  visitor  speaks  enthusiastically 
of  what  he  saw — especially  of  a  scene  at  the  bedside 
of  a  little  dying  pauper  waif,  whom  the  great  preach- 
er's beneficence  had  rescued,  and  with  whom  he 
engaged  in  prayer  and  conversation  in  the  last  dread 
hour — greater  and  grander,  then,  Gough  thought, 
than  when  swaying  the  mighty  multitude  at  his  will. 

Of  Spurgeon's  pithy  and  quaint  style,  his  friend 
gives  several  specimens.  A  contentious  man,  he  calls 
"a  stoker  for  Satan's  fires."  One  who  speaks  well 


1 "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  402. 


246  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

and  means  ill,  he   says,  "  hangs  out  the  sign  of  the 
angel,  while  the  devil  keeps  the  house." 

The  companionship  of  Parker  and  Spurgeon  was  a 
well-spring  of  refreshment  to  Gough  through  all  the 
months  of  this  third  English  visit.  It  was  in  the 
latter's  Tabernacle  that  he  uttered  his  celebrated 
witticism  on  the  hornet:  "  We  are  assured  that  alco- 
hol is  nutritious — it  makes  men  lively!  (a  pause)  well, 
if  a  man  should  sit  down  cm  a  hornet's  nest  it  would 
make  him  lively — but  I  question  how  much  nutrition 
there  would  be  in  it! " 


II. 


THE    STREETS    OF    LONDON. 

BEING  in  London  for  recreation,  with  plenty  of 
time  at  his  disposal,  the  New-England  observer  and 
exponent  of  the  poor  and  miserable,  spent  a  great 
many  hours  in  the  streets.  They  were  to  him  thea- 
ter, circus,  panorama,  church — something  of  each 
and  a  good  deal  of  all.  He  was  as  fond  of  them  as 
Dr.  Johnson  was,  as  Charles  Lamb  was,  as  Dickens 
was,  and  as  Phillips  was  of  the  cow-path  thoroughfares 
of  his  native  Boston.  "  The  people  in  the  London 
streets,  by  day  or  night,"  lie  confesses,  "  fascinated 
me,  and  I  never  wearied  of  strolling  about  and  watch- 
ing them." 

With  regard  to  its  demarcations,  Mr.  Gough  re- 
marks: 

"  London  is  several  cities  rolled  into  one.  If  you  walk  along 
Regent  street,  it  is  a  city  of  gorgeous  shops;  if  you  turn  to  the 
West  End,  of  parks  and  palaces;  if  you  travel  to  St.  Giles,  of 
gin  and  dirt;  in  Belgravia,  it  is  grand  and  rich  ;  in  Pimlico,  it 
is  poor  and  pretentious ;  in  Russell  Square,  it  is  well-to-do. 
.  .  .  Fashion  migrates  to  the  west ;  actors  and  musicians 
live  about  Brompton  ;  the  medical  students  take  possession  of 
whole  streets  in  the  vicinity  of  their  respective  hospitals;  the 
inns  of  court  are  chiefly  inhabited  by  barristers  ;  France,  Italy, 
Hungary,  Poland,  you  will  find  represented  by  the  caf£s  and 
cigar-shops,  billiard-rooms,  and  restaurants  of  Leicester  Square ; 
Wapping,  Rotherhithe,  and  the  Commercial  Road  abound  with 


248  JOHN    B,    COUGH. 

sailors  of  every  nation  under  the  sun  ;  Quakers  live  about  Ed- 
monton and  Stoke-  Newington ;  Jews  congregate  in  Hounds- 
ditch.  In  short,  the  swells  in  the  parks,  the  millers  in  Mark 
Lane,  the  graziers  in  the  new  Cattle  Market,  the  prim,  pale 
lads  in  '  the  city.'  the  silk-weavers  in  Spitalfields,  and  the  sugar- 
bakers  of  Whitechapel,  really  form  distinct  communities,  and 
seem  absolutely  localized  in  their  ideas." 

As  in  all  great  cities,  a  crowd  easily  gathered. 

"  One  evening,"  says  Mr.  Gough,  "  I  started  in  a 
cab  from  the  Midland  Railway  station  for  Piccadilly, 
accompanied  by  a  lady.  We  had  passed  the  '  Seven 
Dials'  and  were  in  Gerard  street,  when  the  horse 
staggered  and  fell.  At  once  a  crowd  of  men,  women, 
boys,  girls,  started  out  of  the  very  ground. 

"  '  Vot's  hup,  cabby  ? ' 

"  '  Vy,  don't  yer  see  vot's  hup  ?  My  "orse  is  down  ; 
that's  vot's  hup.' 

"  '  He's  got  the  staggers,'  said  one,  '  blest  if  he 
'asn't.' 

"'Vun  of  ye  sit  on  'is  'e'd,  and  vee'l  git  fim  out  of 
the  shafts  in  a  jiffy,'  said  another. 

"  Such  a  din  !  boys  laughing,  girls  screaming  at 
every  fresh  struggle  of  the  wretched  horse,  or  pitying 
him,  with  '  Poor  thing  !  Vot  a  shame  ! '  The  beer- 
soaked  cabman  was  perfectly  bewildered.  Some  one 
shouted  —  '  'Eres  the  bobbies  '  (police).  By  their 
direction,  we  transferred  our  luggage  to  another  cab; 
and,  paying  half  a  crown  in  fees,  beside  the  cabby's 
fare,  we  got  away,  leaving  the  poor  horse  on  the 
ground  and  the  crowd  undiminished."  ' 

Our  stroller  comments  upon  the  street  boys  and 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  60-61. 


THE   STREETS   OF    LONDON.  249 

girls:  "  I  found  them,  after  twenty  years,  just  the 
same — keen,  sharp,  impudent.  Coming  through  the 
Strand,  a  flake  of  soot  fell  on  my  mustache.  I  began 
to  run  my  fingers  through  the  hair,  when  a  ragged 
bit  of  a  boy  looked  up  at  me,  and  said,  with  a  per- 
fectly sober  face,  '  It  looks  werry  nice,  sir  ! '  "' 

Mr.  Gough  was  amused  yet  saddened  by  these 
children  of  the  pave — their  home,  a  cellar — their 
father,  a  drunkard — their  mother,  a  shameless  beggar 
— their  sisters,  with  livid,  withered,  sad  faces,  plying 
their  dreadful  trade — the  brothers,  trained  to  crime, 
and  scientifically  wicked. 

"  At  one  of  the  ragged  schools,  on  a  Sunday  night," 
he  says,  "  as  the  clock  struck  eight,  several  of  the  boys 
rose  to  go.  '  The  lesson  is  not  over,'  said  the  teacher, 
'  stay.'  The  reply  was,  '  We  must  go  to  business.' 
'  What  business?'  '  Why,  we  must  catch  the  people 
as  they  come  from  the  churches  and  chapels.'  They 
were  pickpockets!" 

Dickens's  picture  of  Fagin  and  his  pupils  was  not 
fiction,  but  fact.  One  of  these  boy  thieves  said  to 
Mr.  Gough:  "  There  ain't  no  genius  in  pickin'  a 
pocket;  that's  only  slight  o'  'and — anybody  could  do 
that.  I'll  tell  yer  vere  the  genius  is.  Ven  you've  got 
a  gent's  vipe  (handkerchief)  out  of  his  pocket,  and  he 
turns  round  and  says,  '  Somebody's  picked  my 
pocket! '  and  you  looks  'im  right  in  the  face,  and  says, 
'  'As  there,  sir  ?  that's  werry  'ard  on  you  sir, — that's 
cheek,  that's  genius.'  " 

Some  of  the  explorer's  experiences  were  far  from 
pleasant. 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  61. 


250  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  On  a  certain  occasion,"  he  writes: 

"  I  was  strolling  on  a  tour  of  observation  up  Holborn  Hill — 
it  was  before  the  splendid  Holborn  Viaduct  was  engineered — 
and  I  turned  into  Gray's  Inn  Lane.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  around  the  entrance  to  a  court,  in  a  very  bad  local- 
ity, I  saw  a  group  of  tatterdemalions,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, some  fluttering  in  rags,  the  very  refuse  of  the  slums, 
evidently  in  a  state  of  great  excitement ;  something  out  of  the 
common  order  had  occurred. 

"  As  I  was  curious  to  know,  for  I  often  learn  some  lessons  from 
the  street  folk,  and  get  some  ideas  of  strange  phases  of  human 
nature  in  a  crowd,  I  crossed  over.  Expecting  to  hear  some 
foul  language,  somewhat  in  characaterwith  the  appearance  of 
the  crowd  I  was  approaching.  I  soon  heard  expressions  like  these : 
'  Ah,  God  bless  me.  deary,  deary  me,  poor  thing:  well,  well,  ah 
well,  poor  thing.'  These  were  words  of  sympathy  from  human 
hearts  for  human  sorrow.  A  man  had  fallen  from  a  scaffold  in 
a  neighboring  street,  and  was  being  brought  home  dead  ;  and 
all  this  commotion  was  sympathy  for  the  newly-made  widow 
and  her  children.  On  the  outskirts  stood  a  very  bad-looking 
man,  with  the  closely  cropped  bullet-head.  The  bull-neck,  the 
tiger-jaw,  the  small  light-blue  eye,  made  a  sinister-looking 
animal,  one  you  would  not  care  to  meet  alone  in  a  dark  street  at 
night.  He  had  a  cat-skin  cap,  a  belcher  handkerchief  tied 
round  his  neck,  and  he  evidently  belonged  to  what  are  termed 
loosely  the  criminal  classes.  I  said  to  him  : 

"  •  What's  the  matter  here,  sir  ?  ' 

"  He  turned  his  eye  full  on  me  for  a  moment,  and  then  said 
to  the  crowd  : 

"  '  Stand  out  of  the  vay,  vill  ye  !  'ere's  a  swell  vants  to  know 
vat's  the  matter.' 

"  I  was  not  much  of  a  swell,  but  I  did  want  to  know  what  the 
matter  was. 

"  A  woman  told  me  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  pointing  to  a 
miserably  faded  creature,  with  three  or  four  ragged  children 
clinging  to  her  skirts,  said: 


THE  STREETS  OF  LONDON.  251 

'"That's  the  woman  that's  lost  her  husband.' 

"  I  was  startled  by  this  time  to  find  that  the  crowd  had  closed 
in  upon  me,  and  I  must  confess  I  was  frightened ;  my  knees 
grew  weak,  and  I  felt  a  dryness  of  my  lips  and  throat  from 
apprehension.  Quickly  it  flashed  through  my  mind — quicker 
than  I  can  write  it, — '  Here  I  am  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of 
the  worst  characters  in  London.  I  am  shut  out  from  all  help  ; 
no  policeman  near  should  they  see  fit  to  assault  me.  I  have  a 
gold  watch  in  my  pocket,  gold  and  silver  in  my  purse.  Some 
of  these  men  and  boys  are  thieves  by  profession ;  I  do  not  like 
it.  They  might  strike  me  a  blow,  drag  me  down  this  court, 
and  no  one  would  be  the  wiser.  I  should  be  missing,'  etc..  etc. 
All  this  was  very  foolish,  perhaps.  The  bullet-headed  man  was 
close  to  me,  and  I  did  not  like  that ;  my  sensations  were  not 
agreeable. 

"  Summoning  up  courage,  I  turned  to  this  man,  and  pointing 
to  the  woman,  I  said  : 

"  •  Is  this  woman  very  poor,  sir  ?  ' 

"  He  replied,  savagely: 

" '  Vat  do  you  mean  by  that,  hey  ?  Poor  ?  God  Almighty 
help  the  woman  !  Look  at  her,  vill  ye  ? ' 

"  I  did  look :  all  the  womanhood  apparently  crushed  out  of 
her.  So  I  boldly  pulled  out  my  purse,  as  I  said  : 

"'Well,  she  looks  as  if  she  needed  help;  poor  thing,  I  am 
willing  to  help  her.  I'll  give  her  a  half  sovereign,  if  it  will  do 
her  any  good.  Shall  I  give  it  to  you,  sir,  or  to  some  of  these 
women,  or  shall  I  give  it  to  the  poor  woman  herself  ? ' 

" '  God  bless  you,  sir,'  said  one  of  the  women  ;  '  give  it  to  "er; 
she  needs  it  bad.' 

"  '  Thank  you,  sir,'  said  another. 

"  One  with  a  blackened  eye,  said,  holding  up  a  child  : 

'"  'Ere's  one  of  the  children,  sir.'  I  turned  to  go  away.  A 
passage  was  opened  for  me ;  and  though  I  am  convinced  there 
were  men  there  who  would  have  garrotted  me  for  a  shilling,  or 
brained  me  for  half  a  crown,  yet  every  man  as  I  passed  out  of 
the  crowd,  touched  his  rag  of  a  cap,  and  said,  '  thank  ye,  sir!' 
even  my  friend  with  the  be'c'ier  and  the  cat-skin  cap  fitting 


252  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

close  to  his  cropped  head,  looked  more  like  a  human  being 
than  an  animal."1 

The  London  costermongers2  (strolling  retailers  of 
vegetables)  greatly  interested  Mr.  Gough.  They  form 
a  numerous  class,  numbering  over  sixty  thousand. 
He  says  of  them: 

"  The  working  life  of  a  coster  is  spent  in  the  streets,  and  his 
leisure  is  very  much  devoted  to  the  beer-shop,  the  dancing-room, 
and  the  theater ;  yet  there  are  exceptions,  some  of  them  being 
very  sober,  orderly,  God-fearing  people.  Home  has  few 
attractions  to  a  man  whose  life  is  a  street-life.  They  have 
their  own  beer-shops,  theaters,  and  other  places  of  amusement, 
They  are  rather  exclusive,  and  like  to  be  let  alone.  They  are 
true  to  each  other.  If  a  coster  falls  ill,  and  gets  into  the  hos- 
pital, he  is  visited  by  scores  of  his  fellows. 

"  Religion  is  rather  a  puzzle  to  the  costermongers.  They  see 
people  coming  out  of  church,  and,  as  they  are  mostly  well- 
dressed,  they  somehow  mix  up  being  religious  with  being 
respectable,  and  have  a  queer  sort  of  a  feeling  about  it.  They 
will  listen  to  the  street-preacher;  but  I  think  the  most  unim- 
pressible  of  all  with  whom  I  have  been  brought  into  contact, 
on  purely  moral  and  religious  subjects,  are  the  London  coster- 
mongers. They  do  not  understand  how  it  is  possible  that  you 
can  feel  any  interest  in  their  spiritual  welfare  ;  but  if  you 
relieve  the  necessities  of  any  one  in  distress,  you  are  at  once 
popular. 

"  Once  near  Houndsditch  I  saw  some  poor,  pinched  little 
creatures  playing  in  the  gutter.  I  said  to  one,  '  Do  you  want 
an  orange  ?  '  The  child  looked  up,  half  timid,  half  scared,  and 
said  nothing.  I  stepped  up  to  the  stand  and  took  an  orange, 
and  offered  it  to  the  child ;  it  was  at  once  taken ;  and  then 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  139-144. 

5  They  got  their  name  from  a  peculiar  kind   of  apple,  called 
"costard,"  which  they  used  to  sell. 


THE    STREETS    OF    LONDON.  253 

they  flocked  around  me,  and  I  must  have  given  twenty  or 
thirty  oranges  away,  when  I  saw  a  group  of  costers  looking 
on.  As  I  left  the  crowd,  the  men  gave  a  hurrah,  and  said, 
•  That's  a  gentleman  ';  whereas  if  I  had  offered  them  a  tract,  I 
might  have  had  some  chaffing. 

"The  life  of  a  coster-boy  is  a  hard  one  from  morning  till 
night :  at  first  hallooing  for  his  father,  then  in  business  for 
himself  with  a  barrow ;  next  he  looks  out  for  a  girl  to  keep 
house  for  him.  Very  many  are  not  married  to  the  women  with 
whom  they  live,  yet  they  are  very  jealous,  and  sometimes 
behave  very  badly  to  the  girl.  One  fellow,  about  sixteen,  said, 
'  If  I  seed  my  gal  a-talking  to  another  chap,  I'd  fetch  her  sich 
a  punch  of  the  'ed  as  'ud  precious  soon  settle  that  matter.' 

"These  boys  are  very  keen  ;  as  an  old  coster  said,  '  These 
yung  'uns  are  as  sharp  as  terriers,  and  learns  the  business  in 
half  no  time.  I  know  vun,  hate  years  hold,  that'll  chaff  a  peeler 
monstrous  sewere.' 

"  As  I  said,  they  have  strange  ideas  about  religion.  In  the 
'  London  Labor  and  London  Poor '  there  are  very  many  inter- 
esting details  in  reference  to  this  class.  One  of  them  said,  '  I 
'ave  heerd  about  Christianity :  but  if  a  cove  vos  to  fetch  me 
a  lick  of  the  'ed,  I'd  give  to  'im  again,  vether  he  was  a  little 
vun  or  a  big  'un.'  The  idea  of  forgiving  injuries  and  loving 
enemies  seems  to  them  absurd.  One  said, '  I'd  precious  soon 
see  a  henemy  of  mine  shot  afore  I'd  forgive  'im.'  Said  another, 
4  I've  heerd  of  this  'ere  creation  you  speaks  about.  In  coorse 
God  Almighty  made  the  world,  but  the  bricklayers  made  the 
'ouses,  that's  my  opinion.  I  heerd  a  little  about  the  Saviour: 
they  seem  to  say  He  vos  a  goodish  sort  of  a  man  ;  but  if  He 
says  that  a  cove  is  to  forgive  a  feller  as  'its  'im,  I  should  say 
that  he  knows  nothing  about  it.'"  ' 

It  would  be  endless  to  follow  Mr.  Gough  in  all  his 
investigations  up  in  the  garrets  of  poverty,  down  in 


1  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  94-96. 


254  JOHN    B.    GOUGH, 

the  cellars  of  misery,  among  reeling  sailors;  in  the 
midst  of  prostitution,  in  front  of  gaudy  "  gin- 
palaces  " — "  blazing  lighthouses  of  hell,"  enticing 
and  damning  on  every  side.  He  paints  them  all  as 
with  Hogarth's  brush,  or  the  pencil  of  his  old  friend, 
Cruikshank.  He  likens  himself,  in  these  peregrina- 
tions among  the  unsewered  classes,  to  a  farm-hand 
who  was  constantly  astonishing  the  old  farmer  for 
whom  he  worked  by  doing  unexpected  things,  and 
who  one  day  went  into  the  barn  and  hung  himself. 
Looking  at  the  dangling  form,  the  farmer  said: 
"  What  on  earth  will  that  fellow  do  next  ?  " 

What  is  English  philanthropy  doing  to  better  this 
badness  ?  Much.  City  missionaries  are  everywhere 
afoot,  devoting  themselves  chiefly  to  house-to-house 
visitation.  And  these  are  reinforced  bystreet  preach- 
ers— a  rough  and  ready,  but  devoted  and  effective, 
body  of  Christian  workers,  many  of  them  mechanics 
and  working  men,  who  give  their  spare  hours  to  this 
service  of  humanity,  and  disclose  great  shrewdness 
and  ingenuity  in  their  methods  of  approach  and 
address. 

Moreover,  there  are  abounding  benevolent  institu- 
tions and  reformatory  refuges  set  down  in  the  midst 
of  the  greatest  need,  as  centers  of  physical  and  moral 
help.  And  they  go  about  their  work  in  the  most 
practical  way — giving  a  clean  shirt  before  speaking 
of  a  clean  heart  ;  feeding  hunger  before  exhort- 
ing it ;  nursing  sickness  before  bidding  it  prepare 
for  death.  This  is  the  method  of  Christ,  who  incor- 
porated His  word  of  salvation  in  an  act  of  salva- 
tion, and  reached  and  renewed  the  heart  through 
a  renovated  body.  Mr.  Gough  was  in  hearty  accord 


THE    STREETS    OF    LONDON.  255 

with  such  humanitarianism  in  religion — believed  in 
and  practised  it. 

As  intemperance  was  the  main  cause  of  the 
profligacy  and  squalor  of  the  London  streets,  he  was 
glad  to  find  that  the  temperance  people  were  actively 
engaged  in  the  advocacy  of  their  panacea  along  the 
sidewalks.  He  met  a  noble  lady,  the  Honorable 
Maude  Stanley,  and  frequently  accompanied  her  in 
walks  of  philanthropy.  Under  her  guidance,  he 
remarks  : 

"  I  spoke  in  the  vicinity  of  '  Five  Dials '  to  an  audience  ef 
four  hundred,  gathered  from  the  garrets  and  cellars  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  after  the  address  a  temperance  society  was 
formed.  It  was  a  motley  crowd,  presenting  vivid  contrasts. 
There  were  the  right  honorable  and  the  costermonger ;  the 
countess  and  the  harlot ;  the  gentleman  and  the  thief ;  the  refined 
and  the  degraded  ;  the  rich  and  the  poor — and  the  Lord,  the 
Maker  of  them  all."  ' 

The  result  of  that  meeting  was  the  opening  of  a 
"  coffee-palace,"  called  the  "  Stanley  Arms,"  on  the 
very  spot,  with  Dean  Stanley  and  other  prominent 
persons  for  its  sponsors.  Miss  Stanley  has  written 
often  and  admirably  upon  her  work  amcngthe  lowly, 
and  the  American  found  in  her  a  kindred  spirit. 

Among  the  philanthropic  agencies  in  London 
streets,  he  mentions  Hoxton  Hall.  This  had  been  a 
"  music  hall  " — a  vile  place,  and  the  ruin  of  many 
persons  of  both  sexes, — a  temple  of  abominations.  In 
1878  it  was  converted  into  a  Gospel  station,  similar 
to  Jerry  McAuley's  "  Cremorne  Mission,"  in  New 
York,  which,  indeed,  suggested  the  idea.  Mr.  Gough 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  160. 


256  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

was  profoundly  interested  in  this  venture,  and  spoke 
there  repeatedly.  One  of  these  addresses,  given 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Blue  Ribbon  Army  (a  tem- 
perance organization  connected  with  the  hall),  is  thus 
outlined  by  the  London  Times  : ' 

"  On  Saturday  Mr.  Gough,  the  temperance  lecturer,  addressed 
an  audience  at  the  Hoxton  Temperance  Music  Hall,  Hoxton 
street,  composed  mainly  of  'reformed  men  and  women.'  The 
hall  was  thronged  an  hour  before  the  time  announced  for  the 
lecture.  The  audience  was  composed,  with  very  few  excep- 
tions, of  working  men  and  women,  and  when  the  Rev.  J.  John- 
stone,  in  the  prayer  prefacing  the  address,  begged  for  the 
Divine  guidance  on  those  who  had  fled  from  the  temptations  of 
drink,  a  fervid  '  Amen  '  was  murmured  from  many  lips.  Sacred 
songs,  under  the  leadership  of  Mr.  William  Noble,  the  honorary 
director  of  the  Gospel  temperance  movement,  were  sung  very 
heartily  by  the  people,  and  Mr.  Noble  then  asked  all  those  who 
had  signed  the  pledge  in  that  hall  to  stand  up.  Nearly  the 
whole  of  the  audience  rose,  and  he  proceeded  to  say  that 
among  those  were  many  reformed  drunkards,  as  well  as  re- 
formed men  and  women  who  had  been  moderate  drinkers.  He 
asked  them  to  repeat  their  vow,  and  they,  upstanding,  solemnly 
said,  '  I  promise,  by  God's  help,  to  abstain  from  all  intoxicating 
liquors,  and  to  discountenance  their  use  in  others.  The  Lord 
help  me  to  keep  this  vow  for  Christ's  sake.  Amen.'  Mr.  Noble 
went  on  to  say  that  Mr.  Gough  had  given  upwards  of  thirty 
addresses  to  the  working  classes  of  London  without  fee  or 
reward,  and  in  these  the  Hoxton  people  had  largely  shared. 

"  Mr.  Gough  had  told  the  committee  of  the  Blue  Ribbon 
Army,  that  if  they  cared  to  take  a  large  hall  and  make  a  charge 
for  admission,  his  address  should  be  in  aid  of  the  fund  to  carry 
on  that  mission,  and  if  they  had  done  so  there  would  have  been 
ten  thousand  people  to  hear  him ;  but  the  committee  had  de- 


1  October  6,  1879. 


THE  STREETS  OF  LONDON.  257 

cided  to  have  a  meeting  whereat  the  people  who  had  been  ben- 
efited by  Mr.  Cough's  labors  could  assemble  to  bid  him  fare- 
well. Mr.  James  Rae,  late  of  the  Royal  Artillery,  Mr.  Morgan, 
and  Mr.  Robert  Rae,  the  secretary  of  the  National  Temperance 
League,  then  spoke,  and  acknowledged  the  services  of  Mr. 
Gough  to  the  temperance  cause. 

"On  behalf  of  the  mission,  Mr.  John  Smith,  a  French-polisher, 
presented  Mr.  Gough  with  an  album  containing  portraits  of 
those  who  had  firmly  enlisted  themselves  in  the  Blue  Ribbon 
Army.  When  Mr.  Gough  stood  forward  to  receive  the  gift,  a 
poor  woman  pressed  to  the  front,  and  presented  Mrs.  Gough 
with  a  bouquet  of  autumnal  flowers.  Mr.  Gough,  who  was  re- 
ceived with  repeated  cheers,  said  he  was  unequal  to  the  task  of 
making  a  speech  that  night,  for  he  was  quite  exhausted.  Touch- 
ing, however,  upon  the  fact  of  finding  devoted  gentlemen  act- 
ing as  door-keepers  to  that  hall,  he  said  he  would  rather  be  in 
that  position  himself  than  have  all  the  profits  of  the  largest  Bur- 
ton ale  brewery  for  fifty  years.  He  would  rather  have  the 
lowest  menial  position  in  a  work  like  that  of  the  Blue  Ribbon 
Army,  than  hold  the  highest  position  in  a  work  coupled  with 
any  action  which  would  do  harm  to  a  single  soul.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  address  his  audience  upon  the  pledge  which  they  had 
repeated,  and  after  remarking  that  it  was  thirty-seven  years 
since  he  had  signed  a  similar  pledge,  he  added  that  though  he 
could  not  excuse  drunkenness,  yet  it  must  be  allowed  that  the 
circumstances  under  which  drunkards  were  made  were  differ- 
ent. The  appetite  for  drink,  once  obtained,  never  wholly  for- 
sook men.  They  must  pray  to  be  kept  from  this  appetite." 

Yes,  if  there  was  sorrow  in  the  streets  of  London, 
there  was  also  pity  there.  If  Womanhood  walked 
discrowned  and  attended  by  demon  shadows,  Purity 
also  trod  the  pavements  with  her  feet  sandaled  in 
love.  If  Manhood  hiccoughed  and  staggered  along, 
the  angel  of  Sobriety  steadied  the  bewildered  feet  and 
guided  them  in  ways  of  pleasantness  and  paths  of 
17 


258  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

peace.  If  children  were  trained  to  be  professionally 
wicked,  they  were  also  eagerly  sought  and  taught  to 
be  divinely  good.  Where  peril  lurked,  like  a  bloody 
leaper,  ready  to  kill  and  craunch,  safety  was  also  am- 
bushed to  deliver  and  restore. 

"Why  do  you  not  come  any  more  for  cold  victuals?" 
asked  a  lady  of  one  of  these  street  Arabs,  whom  she 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  supplying. 

"'Cos,  ma'am,"  said  he,  "dad's  signed  the  pledge, 
and  we  git  hot  victuals  at  home!  " 


III. 


A   SILVER   TROWEL. 

THERE  is  no  form  of  human  appreciation  quite  so 
grateful  to  a  prominent  man  as  that  which  comes 
from  the  scenes  and  associates  of  childhood.  A 
man's  birthplace  is  apt  to  resent  a  success  of  which  it 
had  no  premonition,  and  in  which  it  played  no  part. 
The  estimate  it  formed  in  "  the  day  of  small  things," 
it  does  not  like  to  find  mistaken.  'Tis  an  impeach- 
ment of  the  local  judgment.  It  prefers  to  believe 
the  outside  world  in  error.  Consequently,  when  his 
birthplace  is  won  to  revise  its  first  opinion  and  echo 
a  fellow  townsman's  honorable  fame,  he  feels  the 
compliment,  and  gives  it  a  value  far  beyond  its  actual 
worth. 

On  the  5th  of  June,  1879,  a  recognition  of  this  kind 
made  John  B.  Gough  very  happy.  Sandgate  in- 
dorsed his  standing  in  the  world,  and  adopted  him  as 
a  kind  of  patron  saint. 

It  had  long  been  a  desire  of  his  to  set  in  the  center 
of  his  native  town  a  visible  monument  to  temperance. 
This  desire  ripened  into  a  purpose.  The  practical 
cast  of  his  mind  led  him  to  prefer  utility  to  ornamen- 
tation— both,  if  possible,  but  the  first  anyhow.  "  I 
have  it !  "  he  cried,  "  I  will  build  a  Coffee  Tavern." 


260  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Friends  were  consulted.  Funds  were  quietly  but 
quickly  collected.  Mr.  Gough,  accompanied  by  a 
throng  of  temperance  co-workers,  went  down  to  lay 
the  corner-stone,  on  a  date  which  marked,  almost  to 
a  day,  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  departure  to  play 
the  part  of  Columbus  and  discover  a  name  and  repu- 
tation in  the  world. 

Sandgate  was  in  gala-dress.  The  citizens  lined  the 
sidewalks  along  the  straggling  street.  A  procession 
composed  of  the  local  clergy,  the  military  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, the  temperance  societies,  and  the  visitors, 
with  the  orator  in  their  midst,  marched,  with  banners 
flying  and  bands  playing,  toward  the  site  of  the  new 
hostelry.  And  now,  see  !  amid  the  cheers  of  the 
throng,  the  people  unharness  the  horses,  and  them- 
selves drag  the  carriage  in  which  the  grizzled  Sand- 
gate  boy  sits  blushing  and  embarrassed — making 
a  scene  quite  like  the  triumphal  march  of  Trajan 
when  he  came  back  to  Rome  leading  in  the  retinue 
of  his  conquest  the  races  and  customs  depicted  on  his 
famous  column,  and  encircling  it  from  base  to  capital; 
only  this  is  a  retinue  of  peace  and  good  will. 

The  center  of  the  village  is  reached.  The  orator 
alights  and  delivers  a  characteristic  address.  He  is 
in  his  happiest  mood.  The  people  laugh  and  cry  by 
turns.  The  skies  are  in  sympathy  with  temperance, 
and  baptize  the  occasion  with  copious  showers  of 
cold  water.  No  one  cares  ;  no  one  moves.  He  takes 
a  silver  trowel  and  with  this  lays  the  corner-stone  of 
"The  Gough  Coffee  Tavern."  The  darkness  falls. 
The  crowds  disperse.  And  "  God  bless  John  Gough  !  " 
is  the  slogan  of  the  hour. 

Ever  after,  among  all  the  trophies  of  love  that  dec- 


A    SILVER    TROWEL.  261 

orate  the  home  at  "  Hillside,"  this  silver  trowel  holds 
first  place.     Lift  it,  and  read  the  inscription: 

"PRESENTED   TO 

J.    B.   GO  UGH,   ESQ., 

ON  HIS  LAYING  THE 
CORNER-STONE 

OF 
COFFEE  TAVERN, 

IN 

SANDGATE,   KENT, 
JUNE   2D,    1879." 

In  looking  about  his  birthplace,  Mr.  Gough  was 
glad  to  see  marks  of  improvement.  As  the  waters  of 
the  channel  rolled  in  upon  the  sands,  erasing  old  im- 
pressions and  smoothing  them  for  new  ones;  so  had 
the  tides  of  time  washed  in  and  out  of  Sandgate, 
obliterating  something  of  the  past  and  preparing 
for  the  present.  Certain  landmarks  were  still  visible 
— "  the  street,"  the  older  houses,  the  castle.  But 
since  "  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne  "  the  population 
had  multiplied  three  and  a  half  fold,  and  now  num- 
bered 2,400;  the  outlying  villas  were  more  numerous; 
the  summer  saunterers  on  the  sands  looked  smarter; 
the  morale  was  higher,  and  smuggling  had  faded  into 
tradition. 

Not  long  after  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  the 
"Gough  Coffee  Tavern"  was  completed  and  thrown 
open,  advertising  its  namesake  in  a  significant  man- 
ner, and  exemplifying  his  hospitable  spirit  towards 
man  and  beast. 


PART    XI. 

The  Hoary  Head 


"  The  hoary  head  is  a  crown  of  glory,  if  it  be 
found  in  the  way  of  righteousness.' 

—  PROV.  xvi. :  31. 


OLD    ACTIVITIES    IN    NEW    RELATIONSHIPS. 

THE  preparation  and  publication  of  "  Sunlight  and 
Shadow,"  in  1880,  signalized  Mr.  Gough's  return  to 
Yankeeland,  in  October,  1879.  The  book  gave  recent 
British  experiences,  supplemented  by  incidents,  anec- 
dotes, and  Goughtana,  covering  the  decade  since  the 
appearance  of  the  revised  and  enlarged  "Autobi- 
ography," in  1871,  and  was  itself  richly  autobiograph- 
ical, and  therefore  athrob  with  vitality.  Being 
marked  by  all  the  peculiarities  of  its  author,  it  met 
with  quick  success. 

There  was  a  continuous  demand  for  printed  copies 
of  Mr.  Gough's  lectures.  These  were  extant  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic,  in  words  snatched  from  his  lips, 
often  incorrect  (for  he  was  the  most  impossible  of 
speakers  to  report)  and  full  of  absurd  mistakes. 
Thirty-six  distinct  lectures  he  had  revised  and  al- 
lowed to  go  out,  in  England,  in  a  penny  edition,  one 
lecture  in  each  number,  which  sold  to  the  extent  of 
1,000,000  copies.  While  in  Great  Britain  three  re- 
porters from  London  followed  him  from  place  to 
place.  Four  metropolitan  journals  printed  his 
speeches  in  full;  many  others  abbreviated  them;  and 
the  provincial  press  was  equally  enterprising.  More- 
over, letters  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  came 


266  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

to  "Hillside"  assuring  the  orator  that  the  reading  of 
these  speeches  had  been  the  means  of  leading  many 
to  reform. 

Influenced  by  these  considerations,  and  encouraged 
by  judicious  advisers,  Mr.  Gough  issued  "  Platform 
Echoes,"  in  1884,  a  book  composed  of  temperance 
and  miscellaneous  records  of  the  platform,  and  pro- 
fusely illustrated.  It  makes  an  interesting  and 
worthy  memorial.  But  we  regret  the  form  of  it.  The 
division  into  chapters  is  a  poor  substitute  for  a  divi- 
sion into  speeches.  The  addresses  are  thus  mutilated 
and  disguised.  Moreover,  since  Mr.  Gough  so  con- 
sistently disclaimed  authorship,  and  since  he  was  an 
acknowledged  king  of  the  platform,  he  might  more 
wisely  have  collected  his  lectures,  and  given  them  to 
the  world  in  an  authentic  edition.  "  Platform 
Echoes,"  instead  of  being  a  book  of  scrappy  chapters, 
ought  to  have  been  a  volume  of  connected  public 
addresses.  However,  like  its  predecessors,  it  circu- 
lated readily  and  rapidly — and  continues  so  to  do. 

Although  never  a  partisan,  the  reformer  was  a 
party  man.  He  recognized  the  truth  that  in  a  free 
country,  government  must  be  administered  by  party. 
Since  its  organization  at  Philadelphia,  in  1856,116  had 
acted  with  the  Republican  party.  Its  leaders  had 
been  his  personal  friends.  Its  history  he  read  in  the 
grandest  achievements  of  the  nineteenth  century.  In 
later  years,  however,  its  course  had  been  marked  by 
moral  vacillation.  From  the  temperance  stand- 
point, the  "  party  of  moral  ideas"  was  immoral.  It 
had  made  promises  before  election  to  hold  Prohibi- 
tion voters,  and  broken  them  after  election  as  easily 
and  jauntily  as  dicers  break  their  oaths.  Temperance 


OLD    ACTIVITIES    IN    NEW    RELATIONSHIPS.  267 

men,  like  Clinton  B.  Fisk  and  Governor  St.  John  ; 
moral  reformers,  like  Frances  E.  Willard  and  Mary  A. 
Livermore,  were  disgusted  out  of  Republicanism. 

Mr.  Gough  staid  longer  ;  but  at  last  he,  too, 
became  a  come-outer.  Quoting  the  epigram  of 
Wendell  Phillips,  he  said  :  "The  men  who  made  the 
Republican  party  are  in  the  grave  ;  the  men  whom 
the  Republican  party  made  are  in  Congress."  And, 
being  in  Congress,  they  refused  to  do  anything  for 
temperance.  The  prestige  of  government  was  per- 
petually with  the  foes  of  government,  and  the  affairs 
of  society  were  administered  by  the  outcasts  of 
society.  Liquor  was  in  office,  and  temperance  was 
out, — and  was,  therefore,  naturally  put  out. 

In  early  days,  the  liquor  traffic  was  not  organ- 
ized. The  manufacturers  and  venders  were  numer- 
ous, but  they  were  not  affiliated.  Ardent  spirits 
were  bought  and  sold  side  by  side  with  legiti- 
mate foods  and  drinks  over  the  counter  of  the  grocery 
or  in  the  tavern.  In  the  lapse  of  time  all  this  has 
changed.  The  liquor  traffic  has  consolidated  itself 
into  a  vast,  centralized  oligarchy,  as  compact  and 
insolent  as  the  slave-power  used  to  be.  With  an 
enormous  capital,  directly  invested  in  the  business ; 
with  an  even  greater  wealth,  indirectly  but  conse- 
quentially concerned  ;  with  tens  of  thousands  of 
saloons,  each  absolutely  controlling  from  eight  to  ten 
voters  ;  with  appetite  and  social  custom  as  active 
allies;  it  dictates  to  political  parties,  writes  the  death- 
warrants  of  politicians,  or  secures  their  promotion, 
according  as  they  serve  or  oppose  its  cause,  buys  up 
or  browbeats  legislatures,  terrorizes  the  community 
by  assaulting  or  assassinating  unpurchasable  or 


268  JOHN   B.    GOUCH. 

undaunted  opponents,  and  flares  a  legalized  right  to 
be  in  the  faces  of  the  husbands  and  fathers  and  sons 
it  ruins,  the  wives  and  mothers  and  daughters  it 
bows  in  want  and  mortification  and  sorrow  to  the 
earth,  the  children  it  pawns  to  ignorance  and 
poverty  and  vice,  and  the  public  it  seeks  to  damn. 

"  When  bad  men  combine,"  remarks  Edmund  Burke, 
"  the  good  must  associate,  else  they  will  fall  one 
by  one,  an  unpitied  sacrifice  in  a  contemptible 
struggle."  In  obedience  to  this  precept  of  the  great 
master  of  political  philosophy,  the  friends  of  temper- 
ance had  met  in  Chicago  in  1869  (September  ist), 
and  formed  a  Prohibition  party,  whose  avowed  ob- 
ject was  the  legal  destruction  of  the  liquor  traffic. 
Like  most  third  parties,  it  made  slow  progress.  In 
the  Presidential  election  of  '72  it  threw  5,607  votes 
in  six  States ;  in  '76,  9,737,  in  eighteen  States  ; 
in  '80,  9,678,  in  sixteen  States  ;  in  '84  (the  period 
of  which  we  write),  150,626,  in  thirty-four  States — an 
encouraging  gain.1 

Governor  St.  John,  of  Kansas,  was  the  candidate 
of  the  Prohibition  party  in  '84.  He  was  a  man  who 
had  Mr.  Gough's  entire  confidence,  and  the  veteran 
was  more  than  glad  to  vote  for  him.  In  explanation 
of  his  course,  he  wrote: 

"  For  forty-two  years  I  have  been  fighting  the  liquor  trade 
— the  trade  which  robbed  me  of  seven  of  the  best  years  of  my 
life.  I  have  long  voted  the  Republican  ticket,  hoping  always 
for  help  in  my  contest  from  the  Republican  party.  But  we 
have  been  expecting  something  from  that  party  in  vain ;  and 


1  In  1888  the  Prohibition  vote  was  249,945.      In  1892  it  was 
270,710. 


OLD    ACTIVITIES   IN    NEW    RELATIONSHIPS.  269 

now,  when  they  have  treated  the  most  respectful  appeal,  from 
the  most  respectable  men  in  the  country,  with  silent  contempt, 
I  say  it  is  time  for  us  to  leave  off  trusting,  and  to  express  our 
opinion  of  that  party."  l 

In  the  same  year,  only  a  few  days  before  the  elec- 
tion, he  wrote  a  letter  to  The  Voice,  in  New  York,  the 
Prohibition  organ,  in  which  he  said: 

"  I  have  one  vote  to  be  responsible  for  that  has  always  been 
given  to  the  Republican  party  from  the  beginning  of  its  exist- 
ence to  this  present  year.  ...  I  hoped  to  find  in  the  Re- 
publican party,  as  a  party  of  high  moral  ideas,  protection 
against  the  liquor  traffic,  instead  of  protection  for  it,  and  have 
been  unwilling  to  aid  in  making  this  grand  cause  a  football  to 
be  kicked  between  political  parties.  .  .  .  This  year,  how- 
ever, has  seen  strange  things.  Surprising  disintegrations  have 
been  going  on  in  the  two  old  parties.  Both  have  either  open 
affiliations  with,  or  a  cowardly  and  shameful  servility  to,  the 
arrogant  set  of  rings  and  lobbies  of  this  drink  trade,  which 
lifts  its  monstrous  front  of  $750,000,000  of  money  spent  directly 
in  it,  with  an  equal  sum  in  addition  taxed  upon  the  people  to 
take  care  of  its  miserable  results."  * 

Such  was  the  choice  and  action  of  John  B.  Gough, 
in  1884.  At  the  same  time,  in  a  passage  illustrative 
of  his  catholicity  of  spirit  and  feeling  as  a  reformer, 
he  wrote: 

"While  I  stand  unflinchingly  on  the  platform  of  total  ab- 
stinence and  absolute  prohibition,  combining  their  forces  for 
the  entire  abondonment  of  the  drinking  customs  and  the  an- 
nihilation of  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  alcoholic  beverages, — 
I  hold  out  my  hand  to  every  worker  as  far  as  he  can  go  with 
me,  if  it  is  but  a  step."  » 


1  "  Cyclopaedia  of  Temperance,"  Art.  "  Gough,"  p.  194. 

*   The  Voice,  October,  1884.     3  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  482. 


270  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Through  these  years,  in  the  midst  of  these  readjust- 
ments, the  lecturer  who  "  hailed  "  from  "  Hillside," 
but  was  seldom  there, 

"  The  round  of  his  simple  duties  walked, 
And  strove  to  live  what  he  always  talked." 

Wherever  he  went,  there  was  a  generous  rivalry 
among  the  most  charming  homes,  for  the  honor  of 
his  entertainment.  In  an  affecting  page  of  the  "  Au- 
tobiography "  he  refers  to  this  fact: 

"Among  the  results  of  my  public  life,  most  valuable  and  ap- 
preciated, are  the  pleasant  homes  I  have  found  in  this  country 
and  Great  Britain ;  the  association  with  some  of  the  best  and 
noblest ;  and  the  familiar  intercourse  with  so  many  of  the  wise 
and  good  ; — this,  next  to  the  fact  that  I  may  have  been  able, 
by  God's  blessing,  to  accomplish  something  toward  the 
amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  poor  and  degraded,  and 
the  upbuilding  of  the  cause  of  the  Master — has  been  to  me  a 
source  of  the  highest  gratification.  I  could  fill  page  after  page 
with  the  record  of  kindness  received  in  the  homes  where  I  have 
found  a  welcome.  The  recollection  of  them  crowds  upon 
me." ' 

None  of  his  friends  were  closer  than  two  whose 
eminence  almost  equaled  his  own,  --  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Wm.  M.  Taylor,  of  New  York,  and  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Theodore  L.  Cuyler,  of  Brooklyn.  It  was  during  his 
second  British  tour  that  he  made  Dr.  Taylor's  ac- 
quaintance, at  Liverpool,  where  he  was  then  settled. 
When  Dr.  Taylor  came  to  fill  the  pastorate  of  the 
Broadway  Tabernacle,  New  York,  in  1872,  this  ac- 
quaintance matured  into  intimacy.  Whenever  he 
could  do  so,  Mr.  Gough  so  timed  his  visits  to  New 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  549. 


OLD    ACTIVITIES    IN    NEW    RELATIONSHIPS.  271 

York  as  to  spend  the  Sunday  there,  and  listen  to  this 
prince  of  preachers.  "  No  man  ever  opened  up  the 
Scriptures  to  me  as  he  did,"  says  the  visitor;  "when- 
ever I  go  to  the  Tabernacle  I  am  helped  and  com- 
forted." ' 

Mr.  Gough  met  Dr.  Cuyler  when  the  latter  was  in 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  away  back  in 
1844,  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  speech  at  that  vener- 
able seat  of  learning.  On  both  sides,  it  was  a  case  of 
love  at  first  sight — a  love  never  afterwards  cooled  or 
clouded  through  evil  or  through  good  report.  "I 
visited  him  in  his  first  manse,  at  Burlington,  N.  J.," 
writes  Mr.  Gough;  "then  many  times  in  Trenton, 
afterwards  in  New  York,  when  he  was  at  the  Market 
Street  Church,  and  since  his  settlement  over  the  La- 
fayette Street  Church,  Brooklyn."  It  was  a  source  of 
regret  that  the  exigencies  of  his  calling  forbade  the 
lecturer  from  hearing  this  preacher  often.  But  as  a 
correspondent  he  got  into  the  heart  of  his  friend.  "  I 
have  read  many  of  Horace  Walpole's  letters,"  he  says, 
"all  of  Cowper's  that  are  published,  a  large  propor- 
tion of  Charles  Lamb's,  but,  in  my  opinion,  Dr. 
Cuyler's  letters,  of  which  I  have  a  large  package,  are 
superior  to  them  all.  If  selections  from  his  corre- 
spondence with  different  individuals  for  the  last 
thirty-five  years  were  published,  they  would  constitute 
one  of  the  most  readable  of  books."  a 

Mr.  Gough  valued  his  opportunities  on  the  platform 
and  his  friendships  off  of  it,  chiefly  as  ways  and  means 
for  waging  his  moral  warfare.  As  time  passed  and 


1  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  417. 

2  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  419. 


272  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

his  youth  receded,  instead  of  hating  liquor  less  he 
hated  it  more.  Thought,  feeling,  observation,  in- 
flamed his  advocacy. 

"  While  I  can  talk  against  the  drink,''  he  exclaimed, 
"  I'll  talk;  and  when  I  can  only  whisper,  I'll  do  that; 
and  when  I  can't  whisper,  I'll  make  motions.  They 
say  I'm  good  at  that!  " 

Like  all  earnest  men,  Mr.  Gough  found  his  patience 
severely  taxed  by  palterers.  Honest  opponents  he 
could  reason  with.  Liquor- dealers  he  knew  where  to 
find — there  was  something  admirable  in  their  fixed- 
ness. But  on  the  road  to  the  celestial  city,  "  Mr. 
Timid"  and  "Mr.  Expediency,"  and  "  Mr.  Facing- 
bo  li-ways,"  were  characters  at  once  common  and 
detestable.  On  this  point  he  would  have  agreed  with 
a  recent  spicy  writer's  estimate: 

"  The  saloon-keeper  is  '  a  man  of  quality  ' — of  one  quality, 
especially — stay-putness.  Wherever  you  left  him,  you  will  find 
him,  if  you  go  back. 

"  Morally  and  religiously  he  varies  like  other  people.  Politi- 
cally he  is  absolutely  genuine,  admirable.  In  Iowa  or  Illinois 
he  is  the  same,  the  soul  of  political  faithfulness  to  his  dominant 
issue.  In  a  winning  race  he  wears  his  honors  lightly  ;  in  a  hope- 
less minority  he  fairly  shines.  Tell  him  '  It  is  no  use,'  '  You 
will  throw  your  vote  away,'  '  Stick  to  educational  methods,'  and 
such  irrefragable  reasoning — to  Christian  men — and  he  will 
•smile,  and  smile,  and  be  a  villain  still.'  He  has  an  idea  and 
believes  in  it.  He  can  neither  be  flattered,  '  fixed,'  frightened, 
nor  fooled. 

"  He  not  only  stands  for  '  personal  liberty  ' ;  he  is  ready  to 
fall  with  it.  The  American  eagle,  winged,  beaked,  taloned, 
and  roosting  on  a  streak  of  lightning,  is  an  ordinary  barn-fowl 
as  an  emblem  of  liberty  compared  to  him,  alert,  aproned,  with 
the  law's  lightning  in  his  license  skewered  to  his  wall,  the 


OLD    ACTIVITIES    IN    NEW    RELATIONSHIPS.  273 

national  colors  under  his  feet,  and  his  head  towering  amidst 
clouds  of  public  sentiment  colossally  innocuous  to  him — serene 
as  Jupiter  he  is  '  there,'  like  the  distilleries  round  about 
Peoria  ;  and  he  wins,  not  only  the  election — that  could  be  borne 
— but  he  wins  by  the  votes  of  men  that  abhor  him.  For  in  con- 
trast that  would  be  very  funny  if  it  were  less  mysterious  and 
humiliating  is  the  average  man  of  what  is  called  the  'better 
class '  politically.  With  him  principles  are  things  of  topography ; 
convictions  are  held  with  a  certain  sense  of  proportion,  and 
relative  to  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  party.  He  is  Prohibi- 
tionist in  Kansas,  prohibitionish  in  Massachusetts,  prohibition- 
oid  in  South  Carolina,  a  '  sentiment-maker  '  in  Auburnclale,  a 
sentimental  fakir  in  Boston.  Yet,  if  you  should  meet  him  in 
Kansas,  he  would  say  that  he  was  a  Prohibitionist,  not  because 
it  was  Kansas,  but  because  he  was  he.  He  will  tell  you  that 
he  wore  out  his  chaise  hauling  Prohibition  voters  in  Sioux  City, 
but  is  now  filling  the  pulpit  of  St.  Demijohn,  in  Omaha,  and 
suits  ;  that  he  stumped  Iowa  for  the  amendment,  and  has  not 
changed  his  mind,  but  would  not  read  a  notice  of  a 
W.  C.  T.  U.  meeting  in  his  present  charge.  Call  on  him  in 
Omaha,  and  he  will  tell  you  that  he  is  in  favor  of  the  best  law 
that  the  average  local  sentiment  will  approve  ;  by  which  proc- 
ess of  reasoning  he  would  be,  if  he  lived  in  Sheol,  a  contented 
devil.  He  believes  in  'final  perseverance  '  of  the  liquor  traffic, 
and  in  justification  by  bargain  and  sale  at  the  best  obtainable 
figure." ' 


1  John  G.  Woolley,  "  The  Golden  Rule,"  August  loth,  1893,  p. 
921. 


18 


II. 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE. 

As  a  veteran  of  temperance,  whose  life  synchro- 
nized with  its  organization  into  a  social  and  political 
movement,  Mr.  Gough's  philosophy  of  the  cause 
deserves  careful  study.  He  was  not  a  scholar,  in 
the  academic  sense,  but  he  was  a  close  and  accurate 
observer.  And  he  knew  his  own  limitations.  If  he 
was  unable  to  discuss  certain  phases  of  the  subject  at 
first  hand,  he  knew  just  where  to  go  for  the  required 
information,  so  that  he  could  speak  with  authority 
at  second  hand.  Thus,  either  through  personal  expe- 
rience, or  because  of  access  to  supreme  authorities,  he 
was  master  of  the  encyclopaedia  of  the  reform  he 
advocated. 

Mr.  Gough  contended  that  alcohol  is  an  alien  prin- 
ciple, not  included  in  the  scheme  of  life.  One  fourth 
of  life,  and  that  the  most  exposed  portion,  viz., 
infancy  and  childhood,  is  spent  without  any  use  of  it 
— as  the  remaining  stages  are  by  most  Orientals,  and 
by  ever-enlarging  numbers  of  abstainers  in  Europe 
and  America,  to  their  immense  physical  and  moral 
gain. 

He  quotes  the  celebrated  B.  W.  Richardson,  M.D., 
on  the  physiology  of  alcohol,  to  show  that  it  is  not  a 
natural  food: 

"  If  you  ask  science  for  a  comparison  of  alcohol  and  of  man, 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  275 

in  respect  to  the  structure  of  both,  her  evidence  is  as  the  sun  at 
noon  in  its  clearness.  She  has  taken  the  body  of  man  to  pieces; 
she  has  learned  the  composition  of  its  structure — skin,  muscle, 
bone,  viscera,  brain,  nervous  cord,  organs  of  sense.  She 
knows  of  what  these  parts  are  formed,  and  she  knows  whence 
the  components  came.  She  finds  in  the  muscles  fibrine  ;  it 
came  from  the  fibrine  of  flesh,  or  from  the  gluten  or  albumen 
of  the  plants  on  which  the  man  has  fed.  She  rinds  tendon  and 
cartilage  and  earthy  matter  of  the  skeleton  ;  they  were  from  the 
vegetable  kingdom,  she  finds  water  in  the  body  in  such 
abundance  that  it  makes  up  seven  parts  out  of  eight  of  the 
whole  ;  and  that  she  knows  the  source  of  readily  enough.  She 
finds  iron  ;  that  she  traces  from  the  earth.  She  finds  fat ;  and 
that  she  traces  to  sugar  and  starch.  In  short,  she  discovers, 
in  whatever  structure  she  searches,  the  origin  of  the  structure. 
But,  as  a  natural  presence,  she  finds  no  ardent  spirit  there  in 
any  part  or  fluid.  Nothing  made  from  spirit.  Did  she  find 
either,  she  would  say  the  body  is  diseased,  and,  it  may  be,  was 
killed  by  that  which  is  found. 

"  Sometimes  in  the  bodies  of  men  she  discovers  the  evidences 
of  some  conditions  that  are  not  natural.  She  compares  these 
bodies  with  the  bodies  of  other  men,  or  with  the  bodies  of  in- 
ferior animals,  as  sheep  and  oxen,  and  finds  that  the  unnatural 
appearances  are  peculiar  to  persons  who  have  taken  alcohol, 
and  are  indications  of  new  structural  changes  which  are  not 
proper,  and  which  she  calls  disease.  Thus,  by  two  tests,  science 
tries  the  comparison  between  alcohol  and  man.  She  finds  in 
the  body  no  structure  made  from  alcohol ;  she  finds  in  the 
healthy  body  no  alcohol ;  she  finds  in  those  who  have  taken 
alcohol  changes  of  the  structure,  and  those  are  changes  of 
disease.  By  all  these  proofs  she  declares  alcohol  to  be  entirely 
alien  to  the  structure  of  man.  It  does  not  build  up  the  body; 
it  undermines  and  destroys  the  building. 

"  One  step  more.  If  you  question  science  on  the  comparison 
which  exists  between  foods  and  alcohol,  she  gives  you  facts  on 
every  hand.  She  shows  you  a  natural  and  all-sufficient  and 
standard  food.  She  calls  it  milk.  She  takes  it  to  pieces  ;  she 


276  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

says  it  is  made  up  of  casein,  for  the  construction  of  muscular 
and  other  active  tissues ;  of  sugar  and  fat,  for  supplying  fuel  to 
the  body  for  the  animal  warmth  ;  of  salts  for  the  earthy,  and 
of  water  for  the  liquid  parts.  This  is  a  perfect  standard. 
Holds  it  any  comparison  with  alcohol  ?  Not  a  jot.  The  com- 
parison is  the  same  with  all  other  natural  foods." 

Wilson's  "  Pathology  of  Drunkenness,"  is  referred 
to  as  "  a  most  vivid  and  fearful  revelation  of  the 
progress  from  conviviality  to  casual  and  habitual 
intoxication,  and  the  constitutional  and  mental  results. 
Wilson  traces  the  disturbance  of  the  circulation,  the 
disorder  of  the  functions  of  digestion,  the  disease  of 
the  liver,  of  the  kidneys,  of  the  lungs,  the  tubercular 
degeneration,  the  brain  disease,  the  apoplexy,  which 
are  some  of  the  constitutional  results  ;  while  loss  or 
confusion  of  memory,  mental  aberration,  delirium, 
lunacy,  and  suicide  are  some  of  the  mental  results. 
The  springs  of  life  are  tainted  at  their  source, 
and  their  currents  diffusing  themselves  everywhere 
throughout  the  system,  the  one  as  the  basis  of 
vitality,  the  other  as  the  origin  of  its  leading 
phenomena,  have  the  traces  of  their  altered  qualities 
everywhere  apparent."  ' 

With  reference  to  the  alcoholic  stages,  he  further 
quotes  Dr.  Richardson  : 

"  A  man  or  woman  sitting  down  or  standing  up 
to  drink  wine,  or  other  stimulant,  always  starts  on 
the  way  that  leads  through  four  stages  towards  an 
easily  realizable  destination  :  Stage  one,  is  that  gentle 
stimulation  called  moderate  excitement,  or  '  support.' 
Stage  two  is  elevation — whatever  that  may  mean.  It 


"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  447. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  277 

is  not  elevation  of  character,  of  that  I  am  satisfied. 
Stage  three  is  confusion  of  mind,  action,  and  deed, 
with  sad  want  of  elevation.  Stage  four  is  complete 
concatenation  of  circumstances — all  the  stages  per- 
fectly matured,  the  journey  completed,  the  traveler 
lying  down,  absolutely  prostrated  in  mind  and  in 
body.  The  destination  is  reached,  and  is  found  to  be 
a  human  being  dead  drunk." 

In  this  connection,  he  relates  an  Arabian  fable  of 
the  vine  : 

"The  devil  matured  the  vine  with  the  blood  of  four  animals: 
First,  with  that  of  the  peacock  ;  and  when  the  vine  began  to 
put  forth  leaves,  with  the  blood  of  the  ape  ;  when  the  grapes 
began  to  appear,  with  the  blood  of  a  lion ;  and,  lastly,  when 
they  were  quite  ripe,  with  the  blood  of  a  hog  :  which  is  the 
reason,  the  Arab  says,  that  the  wine-bibber  at  first  struts 
about  like  a  peacock,  then  begins  to  dance  or  sing,  and  make 
grimaces  like  an  ape,  then  rages  like  a  lion,  and  finally  lies  down 
in  a  ditch,  like  a  hog."  l 

It  is  while  in  the  third  stage  of  drunkenness,  the 
stage  in  which  Dr.  Richardson  in  the  above  extract 
asserts  that  the  victim  is  "  confused  in  mind,  action, 
and  deed,"  or  the  "lion  state,"  according  to  the  Ara- 
bian fable, — that  the  drunkard  is  usually  moved  to  be- 
come a  criminal.  "I  have  read  somewhere,"  says  Mr. 
Gough,"  an  old  legend,  in  which  a  man  was  offered  his 
choice  of  three  voluntary  acts:  to  murder  his  father, 
burn  down  his  house,  or  get  drunk.  Laughingly,  he 
chose  the  latter  as  the  least  objectionable  of  the  three. 
He  got  drunk.  While  in  that  state  he  became  furious. 
Enraged  at  his  father's  attempt  to  control  him,  he 


"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  474. 


278  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

struck  him  a  blow  with  a  hammer  which  lay  near,  and 
killed  him;  then,  filled  with  horror  at  the  deed,  he  set 
fire  to  the  house,  hoping  to  destroy  the  body  and 
hide  his  crime."  ' 

The  apostle  of  temperance  maintained  that  know- 
ingly and  willing  to  drink  what  will  thus  paralyze 
the  reason  and  inflame  the  passions,  is  sinful: 

"  I  believe  that  when  a  man  knows  that  the  use  of  intoxica- 
ting liquors  is  detrimental  to  his  health,  injurious  to  him  in 
body  and  mind,  hinders  his  useful  labor,  and  will  solely  for  his 
sensuous  gratification  use  it,  then  he  commits  sin.  .  .  . 

"Drunkenness  is  a  sin  unlike  others,  in  that  it  carries  its  pen- 
alty with  it  in  the  suffering  and  enslavement  of  its  victim.  It 
is  but  the  penalty  for  violated  law  ;  the  sin  is  not  in  the  penalty, 
but  in  the  violation  of  law.  Now,  is  there  no  wrong  in  drink- 
ing, unless  it  produces  what  we  call  drunkenness  or  intoxica- 
tion ?  If  you  mean  by  drunkenness  a  persistent  use  of  alcoholic 
beverages,  knowing  all  the  consequences,  then  it  is  always  and 
ever  sin  against  the  body,  the  mind,  the  soul,  and  society,  and 
a  grievous  sin  against  God.  But  is  there  no  sin  in  the  intoxi- 
cation that  consists  in  mere  exhilaration,  elevation,  or  excite- 
ment ;  or  even  the  slight  confusion  of  thought,  without  stagger- 
ing or  stammering  ?  If  the  brain  is  disturbed  in  its  action  and 
the  power  of  the  will  weakened,  or  if  the  self-control  is  affected, 
the  perception  stimulated  while  its  accuracy  is  destroyed  :  if  the 
judgment  is  perverted,  if  the  drinker  will  go  where  he  would 
not  go  without  it,  say  what  he  would  not  say  without  it,  think 
as  he  would  not  think,  and  do  as  he  would  not  do  without  it; 
though  his  utterance  may  not  be  thick,  his  eye  may  be  clear, 
his  gait  steady,  and  no  outward  appearance  giving  evidence — 
is  he  not  in  some  degree  tipsy,  inebriated,  drunk  ? 

"  Can  a  man  steal  a  little,  lie  a  little,  swear  a  little,  and  be 
innocent  ?  Are  there  any  degrees  by  which  you  may  measure 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  448,449. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  279 

the  enormity  or  the  veniality  of  these  practices  ?     I  would  fasten 
the  sin  on  the  cause,  not  on  the  effect,  be  it  greater  or  less."1 

In  answering  the  assertion  that  wine  has  been  the 
concomitant  and  promoter  of  civilization,  the  lecturer 
Quotes  an  eminent  writer  as  saying: 

"  It  is  said  that  the  use  of  wine  and  its  allies  has  been  the 
source  of  the  power  of  the  most  powerful  nations.  It  is  said 
tlat  the  wine-cup  has  been  the  fountain  of  that  wit  and  poetry 
aid  artistic  wisdom,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  which  has  made 
the  illustrious  men  of  the  world  so  illustrious  and  so  generally 
useful  as  they  have  been  to  the  world.  Take  away  the  wine- 
cip,  it  is  argued,  and  the  whole  intellectual  life  must  needs 
become  '  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable.'  It  were  indeed  a  pity  if 
ths  were  the  lookout  of  total  abstinence,  a  second  deluge  of 
witer,  with  not  so  much  as  a  graceful  dove  and  an  olive- 
bnnch  to  cheer  the  trackless  waste.  It  were  indeed  a  pity 
of  pities  if  this  were  the  final  lookout  of  total  abstinence  in  the 
intellectual  sphere.  Can  it  be  that  all  intellectual  energy  and 
hihrity  must  die  out  with  the  abolition  of  the  wine-cup  ?  .  .  . 

'  Science,  ever  fair,  says  that  some  nations  and  wonderful 
peoples  that  have  lived  have  been  wine-drinkers  at  certain 
peiiods  of  their  history.  But  she  draws  also  this  most  import- 
am  historical  lesson,  that  the  great  nations  were,  as  a  rule, 
waer-drinkers  purely,  until  they  became  great;  then  they  took 
to  vine  and  other  luxuries,  and  soon  became  little.  Up  to  the 
time  of  Cyrus,  the  Persians  were  water-drinkers;  they  became 
alloowerful,  and  then  also  became  such  confirmed  wine-drink- 
ersthat,  if  they  had  some  great  duty  to  perform,  they  discussed 
the  details  of  it  when  inflamed  with  wine,  and  rejected  the 
judgnent  or  revised  it  when  they  had  become  sober,  and  vice 
versi.  Surely  this  was  the  acme  of  perfection  as  a  test  of  wine. 
Curously,  it  didn't  answer.  With  its  luxury  Persia  succumbed, 
fell  into  hands  of  less  luxurious  conquerors,  and,  like  a  modern 
raki,  found  its  •  progress  '  anything  but  progressive  in  the  end. 


1  *  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  449-450. 


280  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  The  Greeks  in  their  first  and  simple  days  were  clothed  in 
victory  over  men  and  over  nature.  They  grew  powerful ;  they 
sang  and  danced,  and  all  but  worshiped  wine;  but  it  did  not 
sustain  them  in  their  grandeur,  as  it  ought  to  have  done  if  the 
theory  of  such  sustainment  be  correct.  The  Roman  rule 
became  overwhelming  out  of  the  simplicity  of  its  first  life.  It 
rose  into  luxury,  and  made  wine  almost  a  god.  But  Rome  fell 
Wine  did  not  sustain  it.  It  is  all  through  history  the  same. 
There  is  not  an  instance,  when  we  come  to  the  analysis  of  fac: 
and  circumstance,  in  which  wine  has  not  been  to  nations,  as  t» 
man  individually,  a  mocker.  It  has  been  the  death  of  nations. 
H  has  swept  down  nations,  as  it  sweeps  down  men,  in  the  prim; 


o 


their  life,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  glory." 


So  much  for  the  evil  of  intemperance,  and  the  na- 
ture of  it,  as  it  lay  in  the  perception  and  philosophy 
(  f  Mr.  Gough. 

Let  us  turn,  now,  to  his  scheme  of  reform. 

He  pleaded  first  and  last  and  all  the  time  for  totil 
bstinence,  as  "  a  certain,  effectual  cure.  It  nev«r 
lails,  it  cannot  fail.  It  stops  the  supplies,  and  tie 
<  vil  must  cease;  it  dries  up  the  spring,  and  there  c£n 

;e  no  stream.  Prevention  is  better  than  cure.  It  is 
forth  a  life-effort  to  save  a  drunkard,  to  lift  a  mm 
rom  degradation,  but  to  prevent  his  fall  is  far  better." ' 
As  it  concerns  a  reformed  man,  total  abstinence  ic 
esteemed  the  only  possible  course.  His  own  experi- 
ence, and  the  experience  of  tens  of  thousands  of 
others,  spoke  on  this  point  in  trumpet  tones.  The 
appetite  for  liquor  is  created  by  indulgence.  Thi;  is 
a  physiological  effect  which  remains  after  refoim. 
When  the  desire  is  gone,  appetite  lies  couchant — Ike 
the  pet  tiger  that  licks  its  master's  hand  till  blood  is 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  Chap,  xxxii,  passim. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF   TEMPERANCE.  281 

tasted — then  hold  him  who  can!  One  glass  will  rouse 
this  appetite,  and  unmake  the  new-made.  The  only 
safety  for  the  reformed  drunkard  is  total  abstinence. 
In  pleading  with  the  moderate  drinker,  Mr.  Gough 
says: 

"  I  appeal  to  him  on  a  higher  ground  than  mere  self-preserva- 
tion. I  ask  him  to  abstain  for  the  sake  of  others.  ...  In 
view  ot  the  terrible  nature  of  this  evil,  and  of  the  fact  that  the 
drunkards  are  all  drawn  from  the  ranks  of  moderation;  that, 
when  death  makes  gaps  in  their  ranks,  they  are  filled  by  recruits 
from  the  army  of  moderate  drinkers, — we  must  speak  out,  and 
implore  the  moderate  drinker  to  give  up  his  gratification  for  the 
sake  of  others.  I  do  not  accuse  such  an  one  of  willfully  doing 
harm.  I  ask  him  to  investigate,  and  to  test  his  position."  J 

Mr.  Gough  sought  to  reinforce  total  abstinence  by 
basing  it  upon  religious  principle.  He  knew  men 
could  abstain  who  had  never  drank,  that  men  could 
abstain  who  had  been  moderate  drinkers,  and  that 
men  could  abstain  who  had  been  drunkards,  by  an 
act  of  the  will.  But  he  was  convinced  that  such  ab- 
stainers, whichever  of  these  classes  they  belonged  to, 
were  in  chronic  peril.  He  believed  the  grace  of  God 
to  be  more  reliable  than  the  grace  of  the  will.  Per- 
sonally, when  he  first  signed  the  pledge,  he  kept  it  by 
the  grace  of  the  will,  five  months, — then  broke  it. 
When  he  re-signed  it,  under  the  grace  of  God,  he  never 
broke  it.  Temperance  he  regarded  as  a  Christian 
virtue — one  of  many;  and  he  put  it,  where  Peter  did, 
between  manliness  and  knowledge;  and  where  Paul 
did,  between  righteousness  and  judgment  to  come. 
The  development  of  an  harmonious  Christian  charac- 


1 "  Sunlight  and  Shadows,"  pp.  476-477. 


282  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

ter  would  embrace  and  fortify  temperance.  Hence 
his  desire  to  bring  the  pledge  under  the  grace  of  God. 
"  I  tell  men,"  he  says,  "  to  abstain  by  the  power  of 
their  will;  but  every  day  they  abstain  in  their  own 
strength,  in  the  midst  of  temptation,  they  do  it  at  a 
risk.  When  they  put  forth  all  their  energies,  and 
then  trust  in  God's  grace,  they  are  safe."  l 

He  did  not  believe  that  the  grace  of  God  takes  away 
the  appetite  for  liquor  in  the  case  of  a  reformed  man. 
On  this  point  he  remarks  : 

"  Does  any  one  believe  that  the  inflamed  state  of  the  stomach, 
as  shown  in  Sewall's  plates, — the  congestion,  the  complete 
disorder  of  the  whole  nervous  system — and  all  the  irritation 
that  causes  the  desire,  can  be  removed  with  no  inconvenience 
and  no  effort ;  and  that  the  whole  constitution  can  be  as  free 
as  when  the  first  glass  was  taken  ?  I  do  not  believe  it,  except 
by  a  miracle.  .  .  .  Remember  when  Paul  prayed  that  the 
thorn  in  his  flesh  might  be  removed,  the  answer  was,  '  My 
grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  thee  ' — though  the  thorn  was  not 
removed  ;  and  remember,  also,  that  God  will  not  permit  any 
who  trust  in  Him  to  be  confounded  or  put  to  shame."2 

Mr.  Gough  strongly  condemned  the  use  of  alcoholic 
wine  at  the  communion  table,  as  unsafe  for  those  who 
had  come  into  the  Church  through  the  door  of  reform, 
and  urged  the  adoption  of  the  unfermented  juice  of 
the  grape — now  largely,  we  wish  we  could  say  gener- 
ally, used  at  the  Lord's  Supper  : 

"  When  I  first  began  a  Christian  life  I  partook  of  the 
the  Communion  when  intoxicating  wine  was  used.  I  once  told 
the  minister  that  the  church  smelt  like  a  grog-shop  after  the 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  459,  460. 
*  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  464,  465. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  283 

ordinance,  and  that  the  odor  of  alcohol  was  on  every  com- 
municant's breath.  .  .  .  What  was  its  effect  on  me  ?  The 
small  draught  warmed  my  stomach.  It  brought  back  vividly 
the  old  sensations,  though  it  did  not  mount  to  my  head  and 
affect  my  brain;  yet  it  was  a  reminder  of  the  old,  bad  times, 
and  called  up  associations  connected  with  the  use  of  this  very 
article  in  another  way  than  as  a  religious  ordinance.  .  . 
I  was  startled  by  the  pleasant  sensations  produced  by  the 
alcohol  even  in  that  small  quantity.  I  could  not  help  that  if  I 
took  it,  and  I  determined  to  use  it  no  more."  ' 

Touching  the  warrant  for  drinking  which  some  men 
pretend  to  discover  in  the  Bible,  and  the  long  con- 
troversy over  tirosh,  yayin,  oinos,  gleukos,  and  other 
terms,  he  says  : 

"  There  has  been  much  discussion — many  volumes  written, 
some  strong  feelings  expressed,  and,  I  think,  bitterness  engen- 
dered— over  the  wines  of  Scripture.  I  pay  very  little  attention 
to  this  agitation,  as  the  subject  is  of  no  particular  moment  to 
me.  I  am  not  learned,  and  know  nothing  of  Hebrew  or  Greek  ; 
and  if  learned  men  say  that  the  Bible  sanctions  the  use  of  alco- 
holic wine,  that  the  Saviour  made  and  drank  intoxicating  wine, 
I  can  only  reply  that  I  do  not  believe  it.  But  there  is  no 
necessity  for  argument  with  me,  as  I  do  not  understand  the 
question,  and  it  is  perfectly  immaterial  to  me  what  wine  the 
Saviour  made  and  drank,  as  it  is  what  clothes  He  wore,  or 
what  food  He  ate  ;  for  I  am  no  more  bound  to  drink  what  He 
drank  than  I  am  to  eat  what  He  ate,  or  to  wear  the  kind  of 
clothing  in  which  He  was  appareled."2 

Furthermore,  he  adds  : 

"  I  do  not  go  to  the  Bible  for  a  command, '  Thou  shalt  ab- 
stain from  intoxicating  liquors.'  I  do  not  seek  for  a  command 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  462-463. 
8  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  484. 


284  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

in  the  Bible  to  abstain  from  gambling,  horse-racing,  prize- 
fighting, dog-fighting,  cock-fighting,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
As  a  Christian  man  I  abstain  from  these  things,  believing  them 
to  be  detrimental  to  the  best  interest  of  society ;  and  because 
I  am  a  Christian  it  is  not  only  lawful  for  me  to  do  so,  but  a 
bounden  duty.  .  .  .  With  my  views  of  Christianity  and  its 
claims  upon  me,  by  my  allegiance  to  God,  by  my  faith  in 
Christ,  by  the  vows  I  took  upon  myself  in  His  presence  and  be- 
fore His  people,  I  am  bound  to  give  up  a  lawful  indulgence,  if, 
by  so  doing,  my  example  will  save  a  weaker  brother  from  fall- 
ing into  sin.  That  is  my  position ;  can  you  take  that  away 
from  me  ?  I  will  hold  it,  and  take  my  stand  upon  it  in  the  day 
of  judgment."  ' 

Out  of  his  wide  experience  in  meeting  objections 
of  all  kinds,  he  gives  several  instances  of  amusing 
exegesis  : 

"  I  was  told  of  a  Cameronian  in  Scotland  who  declared  he 
had  a  command  to  drink  spirits,  '  for,'  said  he, '  are  we  not  told 
to  try  the  spirits  ?  '  And  so  he  would  sample  every  whiskey- 
bottle  that  was  presented  to  him,  quoting  Scripture  at  the 
same  time.  I  heard  a  man  defend  gambling  from  the  passage, 
'  The  lot  is  cast  into  the  lap,  but  the  whole  disposing  thereof  is 
of  the  Lord.'  It  is  told  of  another  that  he  refused  to  believe 
the  Bible  because  it  was  opposed  to  personal  cleanliness ;  and 
when  asked  for  evidence,  he  quoted  the  passage,  '  He  that  is 
filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still.' "  * 

Mr.  Gough  brought  prohibitory  law  to  the  aid  of 
total  abstinence  and  religious  conviction.  This  was 
the  third  essential  principle  in  his  conception  of  the 
trinity  of  temperance.  It  was  the  objective  point  of 
his  agitation. 


1  "  Platform  Echoes,"  pp.  257-258. 
8  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  488. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  285 

The  right  to  prohibit  seemed  to  him  as  clear  as 
sunshine.  The  public  safety  is  the  highest  law. 
Whatever  menaces  that,  may  and  should  be  prohibited. 
All  Governments  act  upon  this  principle.  France  and 
Germany  prohibited  the  importation  of  American 
pork — why  ?  To  protect  the  stomachs  of  their  people 
against  trichinae  The  United  States  suspended  im- 
migration in  1892.  On  what  ground?  Because  there 
was  cholera  in  Europe  and  Asia,  and  immigration 
threatened  infection. 

By  the  right  of  eminent  domain,  the  sovereign 
power  seizes  private  property,  appraises  it,  and  ap- 
propriates it  to  public  use. 

By  parity  of  reasoning  prohibition  is  avouched.  If 
the  State  adjudges  the  manufacture  and  sale  of 
liquors  as  a  beverage  to  be  inimical  to  the  welfare  of 
the  community,  its  right  to  prohibit  is  self-evident — 
like  the  truths  Jefferson  catalogues  in  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

But  in  a  free  community,  while  the  abstract  right 
is  beyond  successful  question,  the  power  to  exercise 
it  is  dependent  upon  public  opinion.  Any  law,  how- 
ever wholesome,  which  has  not  a  friendly  public 
opinion  to  operate  it  is  worse  than  no  law — is  a  dead 
letter,  and  tends  to  bring  all  other  laws  into  contempt. 
In  the  present  state  of  the  popular  conscience,  a  pro- 
hibitory law  could  not  be  enforced  in  America. 
"Grand  juries  would  not  indict ;  district  attorneys 
would  not  prosecute  ;  petit  juries  would  not  convict  ; 
judges  would  not  sentence  ;  and  governors  would 
pardon." 

Mr.  Gough,  with  characteristic  good  sense,  rejoiced 
that  there  was  not  now  a  prohibitory  clause  in  the 


286  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Constitution  of  the  United  States.  At  the  same  time, 
he  worked  early  and  late  to  secure  such  an  amend- 
ment !  Why  ?  Because  he  knew  that  the  agita- 
tion necessary  in  order  to  carry  the  measure  would 
be  a  "  campaign  of  education."  It  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  win  a  constitutional  prohibitory  amendment, 
without  first  enlightening  public  opinion  and  vitaliz- 
ing the  conscience  of  the  community.  With  this 
done,  a  national  law  prohibiting  the  liquor  traffic 
would  be  as  easily  enforced  as  is  the  national  law 
against  slavery  or  against  polygamy.  "  I  believe," 
said  Mr.  Gough,"  that  a  prohibitory  law  based  on  the 
public  sentiment  of  antagonism  to  drink,  will  be  suc- 
cessfully enforced  ;  and  just  in  proportion  as  it  is 
upheld  by  a  spasmodic  effort,  without  sufficient  senti- 
ment to  back  it,  it  will  be  a  failure,  and  in  my  opinion 
worse  than  nothing."  ' 

Thus  believing,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  manufac- 
ture of  public  opinion,  and  made  himself  a  doctor  of 
the  public  conscience.  "  I  cry  out  for  assistance 
from  every  quarter,"  he  said.  "Small  help  is  better 
than  no  help,  and  I  will  not  refuse  any  aid  given 
from  any  source  to  pull  down  the  stronghold  of  in- 
temperance." " 

Toward  those  agents  and  agencies  that  were 
directly  cooperative  with  him  in  his  purpose,  the  tem- 
perance apostle  turned  with  loving  heart  and  smiling 
face.  "The  National  Temperance  Society  and  Pub- 
lication House,"  in  New  York,  "  The  Voice,"  "  The 
Good  Templars,"  "  The  Sons  of  Temperance,"  "  The 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  481. 
*  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  482. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  287 

Templars  of  Honor,"  and  all  similar  associations,  he 
encouraged  in  their  efforts  to  circulate  the  literature 
of  cold  water,  to  educate  the  public  mind,  and  to 
secure  legislative  enactments  against  the  drink. 

Above  all,  he  welcomed  and  valued  and  cheered 
the  presence  and  counsel  and  labor  of  women  in  the 
good  cause.  Referring  to  the  formation  of  the 
"  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union,"  in  1874,  as 
the  outgrowth  of  the  women's  crusade  against  liquor 
in  certain  Western  States — "  a  most  wonderful  move- 
ment, which  roused  the  whole  people  to  a  consider- 
ation of  the  evils  of  drunkenness,  creating  an  interest 
such  as  this  country  has  not  seen  since  the  days  of 
Washingtonianism  " — he  did  not  hesitate  to  say  that 
he  considered  this  "  the  most  efficient  organization 
in  the  United  States  to-day."  * 

Mr.  Gough  thought  well  of  "Refuges"  and 
"  Homes,"  where  a  reformed  man  finds  shelter  and 
sympathy  during  his  first  few  days  of  conflict  with 
appetite — "  where  appeals  are  made  to  his  conscience, 
representing  his  drunkenness  not  as  a  mere  peccadillo, 
but  as  a  sin  against  his  body  and  soul,  and  as  a  sin 
against  God."  a  He  also  approved  of  the  coffee- 
palace  movement  in  England,  and  of  such  coffee- 
houses as  the  "  Model  "  and  the  "  Central  "  in  Phila- 
delphia. But  for  many  so-called  temperance  hotels 
and  restaurants  he  had  a  profound  contempt — places, 
he  affirms,  "  where  they  charge  as  much  for  dirt  and 
discomfort  as  you  are  required  to  pay  in  any  other 
place  for  cleanliness  and  comfort."  He  adds  : 

"  I  once  went  into  one  of  these,  decoyed  by  the  signboard. 


1  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  495.    *  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  503. 


288  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

and  sat  down  at  a  table  where  the  cloth  looked  like  a  map  of  the 
United  States,  stained  with  mustard,  coffee,  and  grease,  and  with 
crumbs  scattered  all  over  it ;  the  place  reminding  you  of  Cole- 
ridge's description  of  Cologne,  in  which  he  counted  seventy- 
five  distinct  smells.  I  called  for  a  steak,  and  can  hardly  de- 
scribe the  sights  that  met  my  eyes  while  that  steak  was  in 
preparation.  First  the  bread  was  put  on  the  table — not  a  very 
attractive  loaf;  then  some  butter  that  had  been  cut  with  a  dirty 
knife.  The  steak,  how  can  that  be  described!  It  reminded 
you  of  the  man  who  refused  to  partake  of  a  similar  steak  on 
the  ground  that  it  was  an  infringement  of  Goodyear's  patent 
for  india-rubber.  I  asked  for  a  cup  of  tea.  It  came,  remind- 
ing you  again  of  the  customer  who  said,  '  If  this  is  tea,  I  want 
coffee;  if  it  is  coffee,  I  want  tea.'  In  the  sugar  a  wet  spoon 
had  been  so  often  dipped  that  it  had  caked  into  little  drops  of 
discolored  sweetness.  The  spoon  itself  was  sticky ;  and  the 
whole  affair  was  so  utterly  destructive  to  all  healthy  appetite, 
that  I  left  as  hungry  as  I  entered."  * 

Mr.  Gough,  like  all  men  with  clear  brains,  healthy 
livers,  and  knowledge  of  the  facts,  was  an  optimist. 
While  facing  and  fighting  existing  evils,  he  saw  and 
rejoiced  in  the  law  of  progress,  and  sang,  with 
Tennyson : 

"  Yet  I  doubt  not  through  the  ages  one   increasing   purpose 

runs, 

And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  process  of 
the  suns." 

He  mentions  the  surprising  improvements  in  loco- 
motion (a  topic  on  which  he  was  aufait),  in  commu- 
nication, in  personal  comfort,  brought  about  by  steam, 
electricity,  sewing-machines,  chloroform,  photogra- 
phy, and  a  multitude  of  strange  and  curious  inven- 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  504. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  289 

tions,  which  have  done  more  for  human  advancement 
in  the  last  few  decades  than  had  been  done  in  all  the 
previous  lifetime  of  our  race  ;  and  remarks  : 

"  As  I  contemplate  the  past,  how  much  there  is  to  fill  the 
thought  and  stir  the  pulses  in  view  of  the  wonderful  progress 
in  all  directions,  and  the  great  changes  that  have  taken  place 
since  my  remembrance,  and  even  since  my  first  entry  on  public 
life. 

"In  1842,  Louis  Philippe  was  King  of  the  French.  In  1848 
came  the  Republic,  growing  into  the  Empire.  Again,  in  1871, 
after  the  Commune,  came  the  Republic,  routing  the  Empire. 
Four  great  wars  have  agitated  Europe :  the  Crimean,  the 
Italian,  the  Franco-German,  and  the  war  of  Russia  with 
Turkey.  In  1857  the  great  East  Indian  mutiny  startled  the 
world.  In  1847  occurred  the  war  of  the  United  States  with 
Mexico,  and  in  1861  commenced  the  war  for  the  Union. 

"  What  great  reforms  have  been  inaugurated  in  the  past  forty 
years!  In  nearly  all  the  civilized  portions  of  the  globe,  from 
Japan  to  Christianized  Madagascar,  from  India  to  our  own  free 
country,  the  battle  is  going  on,  and  the  fight  becomes  more 
earnest.  Glance  rapidly  over  the  world  and  see.  The  United 
States  has  given  freedom  to  her  slaves;  Russia  has  emanci- 
pated her  millions  of  serfs.  Germany  is  fighting  the  double 
battle  in  sight  of  the  world,  with  a  keen,  relentless,  moral  des- 
potism on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  the  struggle  between 
the  license  of  materialism  and  the  freedom  that  walks  in  stead- 
fast obedience  to  Divine  law.  Italy,  instead  of  being  a  nest 
of  petty  States,  united  only  in  dense  ignorance  and  abject 
slavery,  now  walks  among  the  nations,  free  to  drain  her 
stagnant  moral  marshes  ;  free  to  say  to  all  her  people,  '  Rise, 
for  thy  light  has  come.'  France  has  made  leap  after  leap 
for  civil  and  political  freedom  and  equal  rights :  and  though 
not  yet  landed  on  the  safe  side,  still  her  dissatisfactions- 
are  noble,  and  inspire  the  world  with  sympathy  toward  her 
struggles.  England  is  bravely  grappling  with  internal  prob- 
lems, and  burden  after  burden  is  being  lifted  from  the  shoulders 


290  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

of  her  people.  Turkey  is  being  pierced  with  loopholes  for 
light.  Egypt  tolerates  Christian  schools.  Spain  has  seen  the 
Inquisition  crumble.  China's  Emperor  is  moving  to  prevent 
opium  from  paralyzing  his  millions  of  subjects.  Japan  asks  of 
the  United  States  teachers  of  schools  after  the  method  of  to- 
day, and  takes  the  Christian  Sabbath  for  her  Sabbath  ; — all  this 
when  her  ports,  with  one  exception,  were  barred  against  the 
commerce  of  the  world  at  the  opening  of  this  century.  Hear 
the  proclamation  of  the  Queen  of  Madagascar.where  till  recently 
heathenism  reigned  supreme,  with  savage  cruelties  and  perse- 
cutions to  the  death  of  all  who  dared  avow  the  Christian  name : 
'"  J,  Ranovalomajaka,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  will  of 
my  people,  Queen  of  Madagascar,  defender  of  the  laws  of  my 
kingdom,  this  is  what  I  say  to  you,  my  subjects:  God  has  given 
me  this  land  and  kingdom ;  and  concerning  the  rum,  you  and  I 
have  agreed  it  shall  not  be  sold,  because  it  does  harm  to  your 
persons,  to  your  wives,  and  children  ;  makes  foolish  the  wise, 
makes  more  foolish  the  foolish,  and  causes  people  not  to  fear 
the  laws  of  the  kingdom,  and  especially  makes  them  guilty 
before  God.'"  ' 

Such  was  John  B.  Gough's  philosophy  of  temper- 
ance. Those  who  have  been  wont  to  regard  him  as 
a  mere  minstrel  of  the  cause,  telling  stories  of  re- 
form, as  the  troubadours  in  the  Middle  Ages  sang  of 
love  and  war  from  castle  gate  to  castle  gate,  with  no 
grasp  of  information,  nor  any  power  of  origination — 
have  been  wofully  mistaken  in  their  estimate  of  the 
man.  This  survey  of  his  views  should  suffice,  in  it- 
self, to  indicate  and  vindicate  the  depth  of  his  pene- 
tration, the  reach  of  his  knowledge,  the  kindliness  of 
his  charity,  and  the  weight  of  his  brain.  We  ques- 
'tion  whether  any  other  man  of  his  generation  was  as 


l"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  512-513. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    TEMPERANCE.  291 

thoroughly  master  of  the  encyclopaedia  of  temperance 
as  John  B.  Gough.  Certainly,  none  other  could  equal 
him  in  the  ability  to  handle  -the  subject  before  the 
people.  Here,  by  common  consent,  like  Burns's 
"  Pink  o'  Womanhood,"  he 

"...    blooms  without  a  peer." 


III. 


BEGGARS,    BORROWERS,    AND    BORES. 

MR.GOUGH  devotes  three  amusing  chapters  of  "Sun- 
light and  Shadow  "  '  to  the  beggars,  borrowers,  and 
bores  with  whom  he  had  enjoyed  (?)  a  long  and  expen- 
sive acquaintance.  All  men  in  public  life  have  similar 
experiences.  Those  whose  lives  are  more  retired  may 
get  from  the  recital  a  new  reason  to  be  grateful  for 
privacy.  Hence,  we  extract  from  the  lecturer's  big 
budget  a  few  specimen  cases.  They  serve  to  "  point 
a  moral,"  if  they  fail  to  "  adorn  a  tale  "  : 

"  When  in  England,  twenty-five  years  ago,  I  boasted  that 
I  knew  nothing  in  America  of  the  system  of  writing  beg- 
ging letters,  so  prominent  there ;  but  I  really  think  we  can  now 
fairly  challenge  competition  in  that  line  with  any  country  in 
the  world.  I  rather  think  it  is  an  imported  nuisance  and 
not  indigenous  to  the  soil  of  America.  .  .  .  Every  mail 
brings  me  such  letters.  One  says : 

"  '  Having  heard  that  you  were  a  very  benevolent  man.  and 
knowing  you  were  not  a  poor  man,  for  I  saw  it  stated  in  the 
paper  the  other  day  the  amounl  of  your  income,  I  make  bold  to 
ask  you  a  favor.  My  folks  are  respectable  though  not  very 
well  off,  and  I  wish  to  go  to  a  music-school  for  three  years. 
My  father  has  a  rich  uncle,  whom  I  wrote  to  help  me,  but  he 


1  XXI.,  XXII.,  XXIII. ,  pp.  304-40.    Vide  his  "Autobiography," 
PP-  53I-534>  for  further  instances. 


BEGGARS,    BORROWERS,    AND    BORES.  293 

thought  himself  too  poor.  The  cost  will  be  $500  a  year.  I  wish 
you  would  send  me  a  check  for  $500  for  three  years,  or  a  check 
at  once  for  $1,500.  Pardon  my  boldness,  but  I  do  so  much 
wish  to  go,  etc.,  etc. 

" '  P.  S. — A  check  payable  to  bearer.' 

"Another : 

" '  You  talk  of  serving  the  Lord.  You  will  serve  Him  by 
helping  me.  I  want  $1,000  to  get  a  home.' 

"Another : 

"'I  asked  the  Lord  where  I  should  get  $100,  and  He  whis- 
pered your  name.  Now  if  you  go  to  the  Lord,  perhaps  He'll 
tell  you  to  send  it  to  me.' 

"Another : 

'"If  you  only  knew  how  happy  $100  would  make  me,  you 
would  send  it,  for  you  are  abundantly  able.' 

"  Again : 

'"  I  want  $1,000  to  educate  two  nieces,  and  I  write  to  you.' 

"  The  most  annoying  class  among  the  so-called  respectable 
beggars  are  those  who  apply  to  you  personally,  and  by  appeals 
to  your  sympathy  obtain  money  they  never  mean  to  repay. 

"  A  young  American  in  England  begged  me  to  lend  him^io 
for  a  passage  home.  He  could  be  sent  home  by  steerage,  but 
he  could  not  endure  a  steerage  passage  ;  spoke  of  his  relatives, 
and  said, '  I  can  give  you  an  order  on  my  mother.'  The  money 
was  lent  and  two  pounds  additional  for  some  comforts  for  the 
voyage.  The  order  on  his  mother  was  given.  I  have  it  now. 
When  the  gentleman  reached  this  country  he  had  the  coolness 
to  write  me  not  to  present  the  order  to  his  mother,  as  it  would 
be  of  no  use,  for  she  had  no  money — and  that  is  the  last  of  that 
transaction.  .  .  .  These  people,  many  of  them,  never 
intend  to  repay.  I  write  as  a  sufferer;  for  from  1845,  when 
they  began  on  me,  till  now,  the  game  has  been  going  on — a 
losing  one  to  me,  for  I  have  notes  and  promises  to  pay  to  an 
amount  that  would  hardly  be  believed  of  one  in  my  circum- 
stances. All  I  can  say  is,  that  the  amount  might  be  put  down  in 


294  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

five  figures,  with  the  figure  five  at  the  head  of  the  sum.  Over  and 
over  again  have  I  declared  that  I  will  lend  no  more  money  to 
persons  unknown  to  me,  but  they  make  such  fair  promises  that 
I  think,  '  This  must  be  a  real  case  ' ;  and  like  Mr.  Hartop,  '  I 
am  taken  in.' " 

He  goes  on: 

"  A  very  curious  plan  adopted  by  some  of  these  professionals 
is  to  take  advantage  of  the  credulity  of  their  intended  victims. 
I  give  portions  of  a  letter  received,  purporting  to  come  from 
my  mother,  who  has  been  dead  forty  years. 

Poor,  dead  woman  !  she  has  forgotten  how  to  spell,  for  she 
writes  that  this  letter  is  to  be  attended  to  '  immegertely  ': 

" '  John,  I,  your  mother,  can  speak  to  you  through  a  medium 
in  Bath,  Maine.'  (She  seems  to  have  learned  something-  of 
geography ;  for  when  she  was  a  denizen  of  this  earth,  I  doubt 
if  she  knew  there  was  such  a  place  as  the  above.)  '  You  and 
this  medium  are  strangers ;  but  if  you  will  come  to  her,  my 
dear  boy,  I  can  convince  you  that  I  still  live  to  enjoy  my  son's 
prosperity.'  (No  necessity  to  go  to  Maine  to  know  that  the 
dear  mother  lives.)  '  Do  not  think  or  believe  your  mother  does 
not  help  you  and  bear  you  up,' etc.,  etc.  'John,  my  son,  fear 
not ;  God  has  given  you  great  gifts,  and  He  has  given  great 
gifts  to  the  one  I  am  controlling  to-day.  I  wish  you  would 
help  her  to  come  out  of  her  poor  condition  she  is  in.  If  you 
knew  what  a  gem  she  is,  I  know  you  would  help  her.  Come 
and  see  me.  I,  your  mother,  send  this.  Come  and  talk  to 
me  through  this  medium.  If  you  feel  disposed  to  help  her,  do. 
From  your  mother  to  John.'  " 

One  of  his  mails  brought  the  following  request 
from  an  aspirant: 

"  Being  in  need  of  a  moddle  lecture,  I  send  to  you  for  assist- 
ance. My  request  is  that  you  will  please  compose  a  moddle 
lecture  from  the  extracts  of  your  old  lectures  and  give  it  a  sub- 
ject— a  lecture  that  will  take  about  an  hour  to  repeat.  I  have 
heard  of  no  man  that  can  tie  a  lecture  together  with  choice 
anecdotes  such  as  you  can,  and  indeed,  sir,  eloquence  has  dis- 
tilled her  choicest  nectar  upon  your  lips.  I  have  spoken 
several  times  on  temperance,"  etc.,  etc. 


BEGGARS,    BORPOWERS,    AND    BORES.  295 

Always  willing  to  accommodate,  Mr.  Gough  gives 
the  following  hints  for  a  "  Moddle"  lecture,  to  aid 
any  who  may  be  fired  with  ambition: 

"Your  subject  might  be  'Reminders.'  You  can  introduce  it 
by  stating  briefly  or  at  length,  according  to  the  time  you  have, 
that  for  a  conversation  it  is  necessary  to  start  a  theme,  and 
then  all  is  easy.  Describe  a  company  of  people  sitting  dull 
and  silent,  with  nothing  to  say ;  no  subject  to  interest  them. 
How  shall  they  engage  in  a  stirring  game  of  conversation  ? 
Let  some  one  tell  a  story,  no  matter  what  it  is,  and  it  will  be 
sure  to  remind  some  one  of  the  company  of  something  else. 
There  you  are — '  that  reminds  me'  of  a  man  who  had  but  one 
story,  and  that  was  about  a  gun.  He  would  impatiently  watch, 
when  in  company,  for  a  chance  to  repeat  his  story.  When  all 
was  still,  he  would  let  fall  a  book,  or  stamp  with  his  feet,  then 
start  and  say:  '  Oh,  dear,  how  it  startled  me  !  It  reminded  me 
of  a  gun.  Talking  of  guns,  '  reminds  me,' — and  then  came  the 
story. 

"  This  story  of  a  gun  reminds  me  of  a  famous  hunter  who 
had  shot  tigers  in  Africa.  Conversing  with  a  German  about 
sport,  he  said,  '  I  care  nothing  for  sport  unless  there  is  an  ele- 
ment of  danger  in  it.'  The  German  replies,  '  Ah !  you  vant 
clanger  ?  Veil,  you  go  shoot  mit  me,  dere  vill  be  de  danger. 
Vy,  I  shoot  my  brother  in  his  stomich,  toder  day  !'  Talking 
of  shooting  reminds  me  of  the  man  who  had  a  heavy 
charge  in  his  gun,  and  taking  aim  at  a  squirrel,  fired.  Over 
went  he,  and  the  squirrel  ran  twittering  up  the  tree. 
•  Oh  ! '  said  he,  as  he  picked  himself  up,  '  if  you 
had  been  at  this  end  of  the  gun,  you  would  not 
have  run  so  fast.'  That  reminds  me  of  two  negroes, 
who  were  out  shooting,  and  coming  to  a  wolf's  hole, 
one  said, '  Dar's  a  wolf's  hole.'  •  I  reckon  dar  is,'  said  Jem. 
'  I  wonder  wedder  de  ole  un's  in  dat  hole.'  '  Dar  ain't  no  wolf 
in  dat  hole,  it  don't  look  like  dar  was  a  wolf  dar.  I  reckon 
dar's  young  uns.'  '  Reckon  dar  may  be  young  uns :  s'pose 


296  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

you  go  in  dar,  Cuff,  and  see  wedder  dar  is  or  not.'  '  Go  in 
yourself,  Jem.  I'll  stand  at  de  hole  and  watch  for  de  wolf.  If 
I  see  him  coming,  I'll  let  you  know.'  'All  right';  and  Jem 
crept  into  the  hole.  Soon  the  wolf  came  up  with  a  swinging 
trot,  and  made  straight  for  the  hole.  Cuff  was  too  late,  and 
could  only  seize  the  wolf's  tail,  and  then  it  was,  pull  wolf  and 
pull  Cuff,  the  wolf's  body  completely  filling  the  hole.  Jem  said, 
'  Cuff,  what  makes  the  hole  so  dark  ? '  'Is  de  hole  dark  ? ' 
'  It's  all  darkened  up,  what  makes  it  ?  '  '  Well,  I  reckon,  if  dis 
wolf's  tail  comes  loose,  you'll  know  what  makes  de  hole  so  dark." 
Talking  of  negroes  reminds  me  of  a  colored  man  who,  when 
asked  whether  he  knew  the  way  to  a  certain  place,  said,  '  I 
wish  I  had  as  many  dollars  as  I  know  where  dat  place 
is.'  This  mistake  of  the  negro  reminds  me  of  a  Dutchman, 
who  wanted  a  man  to  go  out  of  his  store,  and  said,  '  Go  out  of 
my  store.  If  you  don't  go  out  of  my  store,  I'll  get  a  policeman 
vot  vill."  Talking  of  Dutchmen,  reminds  me  of  two  who  went 
into  Delmonico's  and  got  lunch.  The  price  was  higher  than 
they  expected,  and  one  of  them  was  very  angry,  and  began  to 
swear.  '  Vot's  de  matter  ?  '  '  Matter  enough  ;  noine  tollars 
for  lunch, — I  vill  swear!'  '  Ah,  nefer  mind,' said  the  other, 
'  nefer  mind.  The  Lord  has  punished  clat  Delmonico  already, 
very  bad.'  '  How  has  he  punished  him  ?  '  '  Vy,  I've  got  my 
pocket  full  of  his  spoons.'  Talking  of  spoons,  reminds  me  of  a 
politician, — and  so  you  get  into  politics,  and  finish  your  lecture 
ad  lib." 

Mr.  Gough  had  many  adventures  with  bores  : 

"  I  was  quietly  reading  one  summer  day  under  the  tree,  when 
a  servant  announced  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  me. 
"'Who  is  he?' 
'"  I  don't  know.' 
'"  Did  he  give  his  name  ?  ' 
"  •  No,  sir.' 
" '  Where  is  he  ? ' 
" '  At  the  front  door,  in  a  buggy.' 


BEGGARS,    BORROWERS,    AND    BORES.  297 

"  So,  hoping  that  he  would  not  keep  me  long,  I  went  to  the 
front  door  ;  there  sat  a  young  gentleman  in  an  open  buggy 

"  '  How  do  ye  do,  Gough  ?  ' 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  ' 

" '  Don't  know  me  ?  ' 

" '  No,  sir.' 

"  '  Don't  know  me  ?     Look  at  me.' 

"  I  looked  at  him. 

" '  Now  don't  you  know  me  ?  ' 

'"No,  sir;  I  do  not  recollect  you.' 

"  '  Why,  you  stopped  at  my  father's  house  once,  when  I  was 
a  boy.  Know  my  father  ?  ' 

" '  No.' 

"  '  Don't  know  my  father  ?  Well,  I  do.  Ha,  ha  !  that's  a 
joke.  Well,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  got  a  buggy  in  Worcester, 
and  drove  out  here  on  purpose  to  see  you.' 

"  '  Will  you  walk  in  ?     I  will  see  that  your  horse  is  hitched.' 

"He  walked  with  me  into  the  parlor. 

"  I  have  a  framed  picture  near  the  door,  entitled  '  The 
Return  from  the  Deer-Stalking':  a  woman  is  rowing  a  boat 
across  the  loch,  while  a  gentleman  in  a  hunting  cap  and  dress 
is  in  the  stern.  When  he  saw  it,  he  said  : 

"' Ah,  a  picture!' holding  his  half-closed  hand  to  his  eyes 
to  get  a  good  sight.  '  That's  a  good  picture.  Queen  Victoria 
and  Prince  Albert,  I  suppose  ?  ' 

"  I  said, '  Hardly  !  Queen  Victoria  would  not  be  likely  to  row 
a  boat  across  the  loch.' 

"'  Ah,  I  dare  say  ;  but  you've  been  to  England,  and  it  struck 
me  that  it  was  the  Queen.' 

"  Turning  to  another  picture  called  '  Langdale  Pikes,'  he  said 
— going  through  the  same  motions  with  his  hands — '  Ah,  a 
very  pretty  farm  scene.' 

"  I  said, '  That  is  not  a  farm  scene ;  that  is  a  view  of  Lang- 
dale  Pikes,  in  Cumberland.' 

"  '  Yes.  Well,  I  see  some  cows  there,  and  didn't  know  but 
what  it  was  an  English  farm  scene.  Been  to  England, 
you  know.  By  the  way,  I  want  to  see  your  library.' 


298  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  I  took  him  into  the  room.     As  he  looked  around,  he  said : 

"  What  a  lot  of  books !  Here's  where  you  cook  up  your 
lectures,  eh  ?  Read  'em  all  ?  ' 

"  And  so  he  went  around  the  room  talking  nonsense,  till  he 
came  to  the  two  volumes  of  the  '  History  of  British  Guiana.' 

" '  Oh !  there,  I  knew  you  were  a  practical  man  !  I  like 
practical  men.  You're  a  farmer,  and  here's  the  book.  I  see 
you're  practical.' 

"  I  said  :  '  What  has  that  book  to  do  with  farming  ?  ' 

'"  Why,  don't  you  see,  the  History  of  British  Guano  ?  That's 
practical — learn  its  history  before  you  use  it ! ' 

" '  And  so  for  three  mortal  hours  did  that  man  drive  one 
wild." 

But  the  bored  in  this  case  got  even  with  the  bore 
— or  at  least  turned  the  rencontre  to  account: 

"  A  circumstance  occurred  some  years  after,  in  connection 
with  this  visit,  and  I  give  it  as  a  sequel.  It  is  so  ridiculously 
absurd  that  one  can  scarcely  believe  it  to  be  possible,  but  I 
record  the  simple  fact.  I  give  no  names;  and  if  the  individual 
should  happen  to  read  this,  he  would  not  probably  recognize 
the  picture  as  any  representation  of  himself.  I  was  stopping  in 
the  hotel  of  the  town  where  I  was  to  lecture  that  evening,  when 
this  gentleman  called,  who  said  he  had  come  to  town  to  hear 
my  lecture.  We  chatted  awhile,  and  he  left  me.  While  I  was 
speaking,  I  saw  him  in  the  audience.  Soon  I  came  to  a  point 
where  I  needed  an  illustration  of  the  stolidity  or  stupidity  of  a 
regular  bore,  when  the  idea  seized  me — '  Why  not  use  this  gen- 
tleman's visit  at  my  house  ?  Ah,  it  would  be  too  barefaced.' 
The  temptation  grew  on  me,  and  as  I  was  speaking  I  argued 
the  point.  '  I  do  not  believe  he  will  take,  yet  it  will  hardly  do.' 
Still  I  seemed  to  be  seized  with  an  almost  irresistible  desire  to 
use  the  circumstance  of  his  visit.  Perhaps  it  was  impudent,  but 
I  did  it.  As  I  looked  on  his  face,  and  remembered  him  at  my 
house,  the  risk  of  his  taking  it  grew  less,  and  I  told  the  whole 
story  through.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  for  he  laughed  when 


BEGGARS,    BORROWERS,    AND    BORES.  299 

others  laughed.  After  the  lecture  was  over,  he  called  on  me  at 
the  hotel.  Now,  I  thought,  I  shall  catch  it ;  but  to  my  utter 
surprise,  he  said : 

" '  Well,  Gough,  I  enjoyed  your  lecture  first-rate  ;  but  the  best 
part  of  the  whole  was  about  that  man  who  called  on  you ;  for 
don't  you  remember  I  called  at  your  house  once,  and  I  remem- 
ber your  library  and  pictures.  It  was  first-rate." 

" '  It  is  almost  past  belief  that  any  man  should  be  so  obtuse, 
but  so  it  was.'  " 

One  afternoon,  in  Roxbury,  Mass.,  the  lecturer  was 
resting  preparatory  to  an  address  which  he  was  to 
deliver  that  evening.  Two  ladies  called,  and  asked 
to  see  him. 

His  wife  replied:  "  Mr.  Gough  is  resting." 

"  We  will  keep  him  but  a  minute,  we  came  from  the 
next  town,  and  wish  very  much  to  see  him." 

"So  I  was  called,"  he  says,  "and  came  into  the 
room  half  asleep  in  not  very  good  humor.  There 
were  two  strange  ladies  seated  on  the  sofa,  who 
looked  at  me  and  then  complacently  smiled  at  each 
other. 

" '  Ladies,  did  you  wish  to  see  me  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  we  called  for  that  purpose.' 

"'What  did  you  want?' 

" '  Oh,  we  do  not  want  anything.  We  live  in 
Hingham,  and  we've  heard  you  lecture,  and,  we  were 
in  Roxbury,  and  we  found  out  where  you  lived,  and 
we  don't  want  anything,  but  we  thought  we  would 
like  to  see  how  you  looked  in  the  daytime,  for  we've 
never  seen  you  except  in  the  evening.' 

"'Is  that  all?' 

"  '  Yes,  that's  all  we  wanted.' 

" '  Good  afternoon,  ladies.' 


300  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

"  And  I  went  back  to  my  room  with  my  rest  com- 
pletely broken  by  the  curiosity  that  desired  to  see 
how  I  looked  in  the  daytime." 

As  the  disturbed  sleeper  returns  to  his  sofa,  we  may 
all  of  us  cry  as  he  did: 

"  O,  wad  some  Pow'r  the  giftie  gie  us, 
To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us  ! 
It  wad  frae  monie  a  blunder  free  us, 
And  foolish  notion." 


IV. 


PERSONAL   EXPERIENCES   ON    THE    PLATFORM. 

THE  platform  adventures  of  platform  monarchs  are 
of  perennial  interest.  Those  who  are  themselves 
public  speakers  study  them  for  instructive  hints  and 
suggestions — and  sometimes  in  search  of  the  secret  of 
Dickens's  "  Circumlocution  Office," — "  how  not  to  do 
it."  To  others  they  give  a  peep  into  a  strange 
world,  as  fascinating  as  a  glance  behind  the  scenes  is 
to  the  play-goer. 

In  some  phases  of  his  career,  Mr.  Gough  has  (uncon- 
sciously and  modestly)  borrowed  the  pen  of  Boswell, 
and  described  himself  in  the  rfile  of  Dr.  Johnson. 
Nowhere  is  he  more  satisfactorily  confiding  than 
upon  this  theme. 

As  to  his  methods  of  preparation,  he  tells  us  that 
at  the  start  he  "  only  told  a  story."  "  I  had  no  litera- 
ture," he  says,  "  no  scientific  knowledge,  no  beautiful 
thoughts  clothed  in  beautiful  language.  I  had  a 
story  to  tell,  and  I  told  it.  It  was  a  story  of  priva- 
tion, of  suffering;  a  story  of  struggle  and  final  vic- 
tory; a  story  of  hope  and  despair;  a  story  of  God's 
mercy;  a  story  of  life — every  word  of  which  I  felt  in 
the  deepest  depths  of  my  own  soul.  ...  I  knew 
nothing  of  grammar  or  rhetoric.  -Logic  was  a  term 
that  I  could  not  define.  I  had  occasionally  an  idea, 


302  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

when  I  went  before  an  audience,  that  I  should  relate 
some  story,  or  use  some  illustration;  but  when, 
where,  or  how,  I  could  not  tell.  .  .  .  For  seven- 
teen years  I  was  constantly  on  the  lookout — in  travel- 
ing, conversation,  reading,  strolling  the  streets,  in 
society — for  illustrations,  incidents,  facts  that  I  could 
use  in  temperance  lectures;  not  exactly  storing  them 
in  my  mind,  but  letting  them  float  on  the  surface, 
ready  at  the  moment  when  required."  l 

As  an  instance  of  the  readiness  with  which  he 
turned  daily  happenings  to  account,  take  this  occur- 
rence: 

"  At  Rhinebeck,  many  years  ago,  I  was  entertained  by  Mr. 
Freeborn  Garretson,  who  then  resided  on  a  beautiful  estate  near 
the  Hudson  River. 

"  We  were  walking  through  the  grounds  one  morning,  when 
he  said  to  me  :  '  I  am  sorry  you  do  not  see  us  in  the  summer- 
time ;  we  now  look  very  barren  and  desolate  ;  the  trees  are  so 
utterly  without  foliage,  they  might  be  dead  trees  for  all  the  evi- 
dence they  give  of  life.  It  is  winter  time  with  us  now ;  but 
come  to  us  in  the  summer,  and  under  the  shade  of  these  grand 
trees  you  may  enjoy  a  cool  and  exquisite  refreshment.' 

"  I  went  in  the  evening  to  the  lecture,  and  as  I  was  passing 
into  the  church,  a  gentleman  said  to  me :  '  I  am  glad  you  are 
come  to  help  us,  for  the  temperance  cause  is  dead  in  Rhine- 
beck.' 

"  During  my  speech,  I  said, '  A  gentleman  said  to  me  on  the 
threshold  of  this  house  this  evening,  'the  temperance  cause  is 
dead  in  Rhinebeck.'  No,  it  is  not  dead  ;  it  was  born  in  the 
Church  of  Christ,  and  can  never  die." 

"  Then  Mr  Garretson's  remarks  in  the  morning  flashed  into 
my  mind,  and  I  said :  '  If  I  should  say  to  you,  as  I  passed 
through  the  streets  of  your  village, '  Cut  down  these  dead  trees/ 


l"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  349. 


PERSONAL    EXPERIENCES    ON    THE    PLATFORM.       303 

you  would  say,  '  They  are  not  dead.'  If  I  tell  you  there  is  no 
evidence  of  life,  there  is  no  bud,  no  blossom,  no  leaf,  and  ask 
you  to  cut  them  down,  and  plant  living  trees,  you  might  tell  me: 
'  It  is  winter-time  with  us  now.  There  is  neither  bud,  blossom, 
nor  leaf,  but  the  sap  is  in  these  trees  ;  and  by-and-by  the  warm 
spring  rain  will  water  the  roots,  the  sun  will  shine  on  the 
branches,  and  they  will  bud,  blossom,  and  leaf  out,  and  as 

"  '  The  tree-tops  stir  not, 

But  sland  and  peer  on  Heaven's  bright  face,  as  though 
It  slept,  and  they  were  loving  it,' 

'you  may  sland  under  their  deep  shade,  and  enjoy  the  cool 
refreshment  thereof.'  So  with  our  temperance-tree.  There 
may  be  but  few,  if  any,  signs  of  life.  It  may  be  winter-time 
with  us;  but  the  sap  is  in  the  tree,  and  by-and-by  the  refreshing 
rain  of  public  sentiment  will  water  the  roots,  and  the  warm  sun 
of  woman's  influence  will  shine  upon  the  branches,  and  it  will 
bud,  and  blossom,  and  leaf  out  ;  and  the  branches,  hanging 
heavy  with  foliage,  shall  touch  the  earth,  and  spring  up  again, 
like  the  banyan-tree,  and  cover  the  land,  and  under  its  shade 
every  poor  victim  of  this  vice  shall  find  a  refuge.' 

"  '  Now,  when  I  commenced  my  speech  I  had  no  idea  I  should 
use  Mr.  Garretson's  remarks,  and  the  line  of  poetry  I  had  read 
a  few  days  before  in  Festus"  1 

Mr.  Gough  assures  his  readers  that  he  never  wrote 
or  studied  his  illustrations.  These  were  all  worked 
out  on  the  platform  and  before  the  audience — "  an 
awful  risk,"  as  he  confesses.  As  for  the  anecdotes 
which  he  told  in  such  numbers  and  with  such  effect, 
he  says:  "  When  I  find  a  good  story,  I  appropriate  it, 
and  use  it.  Some  stories  I  make  by  putting  a  funny 
thought  into  a  narrative  or  dialogue,  some  I  find  in 
the  newspapers,  some  are  related  to  me  by  others,  and 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  350,351. 


304  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

some  occur  in  my  own  experience.  ...  I  think 
the  public  will  not  charge  me  with  introducing  a 
funny  story  except  to  illustrate  a  point,  and,  besides, 
I  find  that  a  good  story,  well  told,  relieves  an  audience 
wonderfully."  ' 

In  his  use  of  stories,  and  in  his  manufacture  of  them, 
Mr.  Gough  resembles  two  other  geniuses,  one  of  the 
past,  the  other  of  the  present,  viz.,  Daniel  O'Connell 
and  Chauncey  M.  Depew,  both  of  whom  have  made  a 
similar  confession. 

In  his  earlier  years  on  the  platform,  Mr.  Gough  was 
so  incessantly  occupied  that  he  had  little  time  for  in- 
tellectual culture.  Whatever  reading  he  did  was 
desultory  and  useless  because  of  ill-direction  or  bad 
choice.  It  may  be  said  of  him,  as  perhaps  of  no  other 
man,  that  he  got  a  liberal  education  on  the  platform. 
Feeling  more  and  more,  as  draughts  were  made  upon 
his  mind,  the  need  of  knowledge,  he  went  in  search 
of  it, — taught  himself  to  think, — learned  how  to  read, 
— mastered  the  subjects  on  which  he  spoke, — and 
graduated  from  one  of  the  best  universities  in  the 
world — the  University  of  Adversity,  with  experience 
for  the  faculty,  men  and  women  for  fellow  students, 
life  for  a  text-book,  and  character  for  his  diploma. 

After  the  second  return  from  Great  Britain,  Mr. 
Gough,  as  we  have  seen,"  pursued  a  different  method 
of  preparation,  and  began  to  write  his  lectures.  All 
of  those  on  miscellaneous  topics  were  thus  produced. 
In  the  enjoyment  of  leisure,  throned  in  an  ample 
library,  with  an  intellect  self-trained,  and  aided  by 
the  habits  of  the  platform,  he  prepared,  as  any  scholar 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  354-355.     2  Ante,  p.  212,   sq. 


PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  PLATFORM.         305 

might  and  would,  with  painstaking  diligence,  and  pen 
in  hand. 

The  later,  like  the  earlier,  efforts,  however,  lacked  a 
logical  form.  Mr.  Gough  was  sensitive  on  the  sub- 
ject of  logic. 

"  I  am  not  logical,  he  says  with  gentle  irony,  I 
cannot  possibly  be  logical,  when  so  many  wiser  men 
than  I  am,  declare  that  I  am  not.  I  never  pretended 
to  logic;  I  hardly  know  what  it  means.  I  have  an 
idea  that  logic  may  be  used  to  prove  strange  things. 
When  I  was  a  boy  I  heard  that  a  young  student  visit- 
ing his  home  during  his  vacation,  was  asked  by  his 
father  to  give  him  a  specimen  of  logic.  '  Well,'  said 
he,  '  I  can  prove  that  this  eel  pie  is  a  pigeon.'  '  How 
so  ?' asked  the  father.  'Why  an  eel  pie  is  a  Jack 
pie,  a  Jack  pie  is  a  John  pie,  and  a  John  pie  is  a  pie- 
John  (pigeon).'  'Good! '  exclaimed  the  father,  '  now 
for  that  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  a  chestnut  horse 
to-morrow.'  On  the  morrow,  with  a  bridle  on  his 
arm,  the  young  logician  accompanied  his  father  to 
the  field,  when  they  stopped  under  the  shade  of  a 
tree. 

"  '  There's  your  horse,  bridle  him.' 

"'  But  I  see  no  horse.' 

"'Certainly,  there  is  a  horse — a  chestnut  horse.' 
And  the  old  gentleman  touched  a  horse  chestnut  with 
his  foot,  adding  :  '  If  a  John  pie  is  a  pie-John,  a  horse 
chestnut  must  be  a  chestnut  horse  ;  its  a  poor  rule 
that  will  not  work  both  ways.'"1 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  reason  in  Mr.  Gough's  sus- 
picions of  logic.  'Tis  an  open  question  whether  it 


1  "Autobiography,"  pp.  323,324. 
2O 


306  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

does  not  conclude  erroneously  as  often  as  it  does 
rightly.  The  two  most  consummate  logicians  in 
American  public  life  were  Jonathan  Edwards  and 
John  C.  Calhoun.  Edwards's  logic  carried  him  into 
hyper-Calvinism  ;  Calhoun's  logic  led  him  into 
the  bog  of  Nullification,  out  of  which  Andrew  Jack- 
son (who  knew  no  more  about  logic  than  Goughdid) 
dug  him  with  the  spade  of  common  sense  ! 

Without  logic,  Mr.  Gough  produced  all  the  best 
effects  of  logic.  He  convinced,  he  converted,  he  in- 
spired. He  had  logic;  not,  indeed,  in  the  form  of  the 
schools,  but  in  that  best  form — the  spirit  and  truth  of 
it. 

He  set  a  just  value  on  vocal  training: 

"  I  would  advise  every  aspirant  to  eloquence  to  carefully  cul- 
tivate the  voice,  to  acquire  a  perfect  command  of  that  organ  if 
possible.  By  careful,  earnest,  and  frequent  training,  a  defective 
voice  may  not  only  be  improved,  but  an  astonishing  mastery  be 
gained  over  it.  A  naturally  harsh  voice,  which,  without  culti- 
vation would  grate  upon  the  ear  of  others,  may  be  so  brought 
into  subjection  as  to  become  musical  in  its  modulations.  A 
power  may  be  gained  of  uttering  loud,  clear,  prolonged,  trumpet 
tones,  or  sounds  as  sweet  and  penetrating  as  the  echoes  linger- 
ing about  the  soul  long  after  it  has  ceased  haunting  it — as  some 
voices  will  for  ever. 

"  No  man  with  an  incurable  defect  in  his  voice  should  seek 
to  become  an  orator.  Think  of  a  speaker  attempting  pathos 
or  sublimity,  if  he  pronounces  m  like  b,  and  n  like  d.  '  O  by 
bother,  by  bother  !  "  '  My  dabe  is  Dorval ! '  '  Freds,  Robads, 
cudtrybed  ! '  The  power  and  beauty  of  language  are  utterly 
destroyed. 

"  I  once  heard  a  man  who  preached  occasionally,  and  who 
invariably  pronounced  «  like  /.  For  instance  :  '  My  brethrel, 
pass  roul  the  coltributiol  box,  but  dolt  put  rusty  lailsor  buttols 


PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  PLATFORM.        307 

ill,  but  mully.     If  you  put  ill  buttols,  put  'em  ill  with  holes  ill 
'em,  lot  with  all  the  holes  jailed  ilto  wull ! ' 

"But,  seriously,  a  cultivated  or  a  naturally  good  voice  is  one 
great  essential.  It  is  said  that  when  William  Pitt  uttered  his 
torrents  of  indignant  censure,  or  withering  sarcasm,  his  voice 
assumed  an  almost  terrific  sound."  l 

Notwithstanding  his  lifelong  practice,  this  veteran 
of  the  platform  acknowledges  that  his  dread  of  a» 
audience  grew  instead  of  decreasing: 

"  Often  my  fear  has  amounted  to  positive  suffering,  and 
seldom  am  I  called  upon  to  face  an  audience  when  I  would  not 
rather  by  far  run  the  other  way.  A  very  large  audience  de- 
presses me  at  first  sight.  I  have  often  begged  the  chairman  to 
make  an  address,  and  give  me  time  to  recover.  When  I  begin, 
trembling  seizes  upon  every  limb ;  my  throat  and  tongue  are 
dry  and  feverish ;  my  voice  hoarse  or  husky.  ...  I  think 
in  my  whole  experience  I  never  volunteered  a  speech,  nor  asked 
for  an  invitation  to  address  an  audience.  After  the  first  nerv- 
ousness has  passed,  I  have  but  little  sensation  except  the  de- 
sire to  make  my  audience  feel  as  I  feel,  see  as  I  see,  and  gain 
dominion  for  the  time  being  over  their  wills  and  affections.  If 
I  succeed  in  this  or  think  I  have  their  sympathy,  and  especially 
should  they  be  responsive,  the  fever  is  all  gone:  then  comes  a 
consciousness  of  power  that  exhilarates,  excites,  and  produces 
a  strange  thrilling  sensation  of  delight."  * 

The  truth  is  that  this  timidity  goes  with  the 
oratorical  temperament.  He  who  would  make  others 
sensitive  to  him  must  be  sensitive  to  them.  Sym- 
pathy is  the  subtle  nexus  which  binds  speaker  and 
hearers  for  the  time  being  in  one  mutually  responsive 


1  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  377. 

*  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  341-342. 


308  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

whole.  Magnetism  is  generated  by  this  feeling — 
magnetism,  which  is  the  secret  of  the  orator's  irresist- 
ible attractiveness.  All  great  speakers  are  afflicted 
as  Gough  was.  A  beginner  once  complained  to  Wen- 
dell Phillips  of  stage-fright.  "  Ah,"  replied  the  Agi- 
tator, "  if  you  ever  make  a  speaker  you'll  carry  that 
'stage-fright'  with  you  throughout  your  life.  I  never 
began  a  speech  which  I  wouldn't  have  given  $500  to 
be  safely  through  !  "  Yet  Mr.  Phillips  was  the  most 
entirely  composed  of  speakers — apparently.  The 
elder  Pitt,  whose  courageous  genius  "  conquered  for 
his  country  one  great  Empire  on  the  frozen  shores  of 
Ontario,  and  another  under  the  tropical  sun  at  the 
mouths  of  the  Ganges,"  shook  with  fear  whenever  he 
faced  the  House  of  Commons — the  throne  of  this 
Jupiter  of  the  tongue;  and  (foolishly)  drank  incredible 
draughts  of  port  to  quiet  his  nerves.  Daniel  Webster, 
when  a  boy,  broke  down  as  often  as  he  tried  to  de- 
claim a  piece  in  school;  and,  when  a  man,  assured  Mr. 
Everett  that  his  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer  when 
he  even  thought  of  rising  to  speak. 

When  this  timidity  has  been  "  talked  through," 
there  comes  to  all  "  masters  of  assemblies,"  a  self- 
possession  which  enables  them  to  ride  upon  the  wild- 
est storm. 

"  Like  all  other  speakers,"  remarks  Mr.  Gough,  "  I 
have  been  placed  in  embarrassing  circumstances,  and 
a  certain  amount  of  self-possession  has  been  neces- 
sary to  overcome  an  unexpected  difficulty  or  opposi- 
tion, especially  such  an  interruption  as  often  occurred 
in  the  earlier  days  of  temperance  work.  On  such  an 
occasion  I  lost  all  fear  and  became  self-possessed, 
watching  for  an  opportunity  to  retaliate.  The  secre- 


PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  PLATFORM.        309 

tary  of  the  National  League  in  London  once  told  me 
that  he  was  tempted  to  induce  some  one  to  hiss  me, 
as  the  sound  of  a  hiss  seemed  to  stir  me  up  to  a  more 
vigorous  speech. 

"  I  was  never  utterly  put  down  by  an  opposition  in 
public  addresses.  I  have  been  sorely  tried.  On  more 
than  one  occasion  I  found  it  was  of  no  use  to  employ 
arguments  with  those  who  were  determined  to  annoy 
me,  but  if  possible  would  think  of  some  apt  story  to 
get  the  laugh  on  them;  and  then  I  always  succeeded 
in  maintaining  my  ground."1 

Mr.  Gough  was  quick  at  repartee — an  invaluable 
gift  in  a  public  speaker.  At  one  of  his  meetings  a 
man  attempted  to  make  a  disturbance.  "  Put  him 
out  !  "  shouted  the  audience.  "  Do  not  put  him  out," 
cried  Gough;  "let  him  remain:  he  reminds  me  of  the 
woman  who  was  taking  her  squalling  child  out  of  a 
church,  when  the  minister  said — '  Do  not  take  the 
baby  out;  it  does  not  disturb  me.'  '  No,'  retorted  the 
woman;  'but  you  disturb  the  baby.'  This  baby 
doesn't  disturb  me,  but  I  probably  disturb  him." 

He  knew  how  to  rebuke  sharply  yet  kindly. 

"Once,"  he  says,  "  a  couple  of  young  ladies  had 
taken  a  seat  directly  in  front  of  me,  and  I  had  hardly 
commenced  when  they  began  to  whisper  and  giggle, 
and  became  so  excited  in  their  conversation  that  they 
were  evidently  annoying  others.  I  did  not  like  to  tell 
them  to  stop  talking,  so  I  said:  'A  minister  told  me 
that  he  regretted  very  much  rebuking  two  young 
ladies  who  were  disturbing  him  and  others  by  talking 
during  his  discourse,  for  he  was  told  that  one  of  these 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  372. 


3IO  JOHN    B.    COUGH. 

young  ladies  had  just  secured  a  beau,  and  that  she 
was  so  exceedingly  tickled  about  it,  she  could  not  re- 
frain on  all  occasions  when  she  could  get  a  listener 
from  expatiating  on  the  dear  young  man's  perfections; 
there  seemed  to  be  so  many  of  them  she  could  never 
exhaust  the  enumeration;  and  when  she  began  to 
talk  about  her  beau,  she  went  on  interminably.  Just 
so  whenever  I  see  two  young  ladies  talking  together 
in  a  church,  or  at  a  lecture,  I  imagine  one  or  the 
other,  or  both,  have  got  a  beau,  and  it  would  be  hardly 
fair  to  disturb  them,  so  I  let  them  talk.'  The  whisper- 
ers troubled  me  no  more."  ' 

With  all  his  self-possession  he  was  once  nearly 
upset.  He  thus  tells  the  story: 

"  I  was  engaged  to  address  a  large  number  of  children  in  the 
afternoon,  the  meeting  to  be  held  on  the  lawn  back  of  a 
Baptist  church  in  Providence,  R.  I.  In  the  forenoon  a  friend 
met  me  and  said  : 

" '  I  have  some  first- rate  cigars,  will  you  take  a  few  ?  ' 

"  'No,  I  thank  you.' 

" '  Do  take  a  half  a  dozen.' 

" '  I  have  nowhere  to  put  them.' 

" '  You  can  put  half  a  dozen  in  your  cap.' 

"  I  wore  a  cap  in  those  days,  and  I  put  the  cigars  into  it,  and 
at  the  appointed  time  I  went  to  the  meeting.  I  ascended  the 
platform,  and  faced  an  audience  of  more  than  two  thousand 
children.  As  it  was  out  of  doors  I  kept  my  cap  on,  for  fear  of 
taking  cold,  and  I  forgot  all  about  the  cigars. 

"  Towards  the  close  of  my  speech  I  became  much  in  earnest, 
and  after  warning  the  boys  against  bad  company,  bad  habits, 
and  the  saloons,  I  said  : 

"  '  Now,  boys,  let  us  give  three  rousing  cheers  for  temper- 
ance and  for  cold  water.  Now,  then,  three  cheers.  Hurrah  !' 


1  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  376. 


PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  PLATFORM.        311 

"  And  taking  off  my  cap,  I  waved  it  most  vigorously,  when 
away  went  the  cigars  right  into  the  midst  of  the  audience. 

"  The  remaining  cheers  were  very  faint,  and  were  nearly 
drowned  in  the  laughter  of  the  crowd. 

"  I  was  mortified  and  ashamed,  and  should  have  been  re- 
lieved could  I  have  sunk  through  the  platform  out  of  sight. 
My  feelings  were  still  more  aggravated  by  a  boy  coming  up 
the  steps  of  the  platform  with  one  of  those  dreadful  cigars, 
saying: 

"  '  Here's  one  of  your  cigars,  Mr.  Gough.' 

"  Though  I  never  afterwards  put  cigars  in  my  hat  when 
going  to  a  meeting,  I  am  ashamed  to  say  it  was  some  time 
after  that  before  I  gave  up  cigars  altogether."  ! 

Mr.  Gough  justly  affirms  that  the  reaction  of  an 
audience  upon  the  speaker  is  immense. 

"  Sit  cold,  critical,  determined  not  to  be  moved,"  he 
says,  "  and  let  the  speaker  see  a  slight  sneer  on  your 
face;  look  at  him  as  who  should  say,  'What  are  you 
going  to  do  next  ?'  and  you  will  destroy  his  elasticity; 
and  unless  he  has  the  ability  to  turn  from  you,  he 
will  be  seriously  embarrassed.  But  take  your  place 
with  the  desire  to  be  interested,  look  at  the  speaker, 
as  if  you  would  say,  '  We  have  come  expecting  and 
desiring  to  be  pleased;  now  do  your  best,  and  we  will 
show  our  approval,' — and  you  encourage  him  to  do 
his  best."2 

In  illustration  of  this  affirmation,  he  describes  a 
couple  who  came  to  hear  him,  and  who  sat  in  the 
front  seat : 

"  They  were  a  middle-aged  pair,  and  attracted  my  attention 


1(1  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  380,  381. 
8  "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  pp.  374,  375. 


312  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

at  once.  As  I  arose  they  greeted  me  with  a  smile,  and  evi- 
dently settled  themselves  to  listen  and  enjoy.  As  I  proceeded, 
I  found  them  growing  more  and  more  interested,  and  at  every 
point  I  made,  one  would  nod  at  the  other.  At  a  funny  story 
they  laughed  heartily.  By-and-bye  I  related  a  pathetic  inci- 
dent. Then  the  smiling  face  was  changed  to  a  sober,  then  to 
a  sad  expression.  Soon  the  man  began  to  sniff  a  little,  feeling 
for  his  handkerchief,  which  he  did  not  find — having  probably 
forgotten  it,  and  left  it  at  home.  He  felt  in  each  of  his  pockets, 
then  wiped  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Seeing  his  wife's  handker- 
chief in  her  lap,  he  took  it  and  began  using  it.  The  wife  next 
began  to  sniff,  and  felt  for  the  handkerchief.  Missing  it,  she 
found  her  husband  using  it ;  and  so,  with  a  loving,  wifely 
motion,  she  leaned  towards  him,  and  taking  an  end  of  the 
handkerchief,  she  wiped  her  eyes  with  it.  One  handkerchief 
for  two."1  " 

Apropos,  speakers  are  frequently  asked  whether 
they  individualize  when  they  face  an  audience,  or 
talk  to  them  en  masse.  Mr.  Gough  crumbled  the 
aggregate  up  into  detail : 

"  When  I  rise  there  is  an  involuntary  selection  of  the  persons 
to  whom  I  shall  speak ;  my  will  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
Glancing  over  an  assembly,  my  eye  rests  on  certain  individuals 
in  different  parts  of  the  house,  and  to  them  my  speech  is 
largely  addressed.  I  seem  compelled  to  speak  to  them  and  to 
no  others.  The  rest  of  the  people  are  in  the  aggregate.  If 
I  move  these,  I  move  the  rest;  if  these  are  sympathetic  I  feel 
it ;  if  they  are  unmoved  I  am  distressed.  I  have  more  than  once 
talked  for  some  minutes  exclusively  to  one  person  who  seemed 
stolid  or  indifferent,  trying  all  methods  to  move  him."2 

Like  some  other  great  speakers — Henry  Clay,  for 


'"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  375. 
9"  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  345. 


PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  PLATFORM.        313 

one — he  had  no  verbal  memory.  Hence  he  could  never 
rely  upon  reaching  the  end  of  an  attempted  quota- 
tion : 

"  I  tried  once  to  quote  the  sentence,  '  Locke  says  we  are 
born  with  powers  and  faculties  capable  of  almost  anything.' 

"  I  began  very  confidently  with  my  quotation.  '  Locke  says, 
we  are  born.' 

"  There  I  stuck  fast,  and  could  not  remember  another  word. 

"  So  I  said, '  We  are  born  ;  I  suppose  we  are  born  ;  but  what 
we  are  born/or  in  this  connection,  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.'  "  ' 

Mr.  Gough  had  a  good  many  laughable  introduc- 
tions. In  Lockerbie,  Scotland,  the  chairman  said: 

"  I  wish  to  introduce  Mr.  Gough,  who  is  to  speak 
to  us  on  the  subject  of  temperance,  and  I  hope  he'll 
prove  far  better  than  he  looks."  * 

Another  of  his  chairmen  said: 

"I  rise  to  introduce  Mr.  Gough,  famous  in  both 
hemispheres  for  his  sublime,  as  well  as  for  his  ridi- 
culous." * 

But  an  English  presiding  officer  capped  the  climax. 
Mr.  Gough  says:  "  He  aspirated  his  H's,  and  put  them 
hon  when  they  hought  to  'ave  been  hoff  and  took  them 
hoff  when  they  hought  to  'ave  been  hon.  Wishing  to 
compliment  me,  and  remembering  that  Samson  slew 
a  thousand  with  a  jaw-bone,  and  some  time  after, 
being  thirsty,  obtained,  by  miracle,  water  from  the 
dry  bone, — he  said:  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  hi  wish 
to  hintroduce  the  horator  of  the  hevening;  'e  comes 
from  the  hother  side  of  the  Hatlantic;  'e  is  to  speak 


1 "  Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  345. 

9  "Sunlight  and  Shadow,"  p.  382.     * "  Autobiography,"  p.  334. 


314  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

on  the  subject  of  temperance — a  very  dry  sub- 
ject— but  when  we  "ear  hour  transhatlantic  horator 
discourse  hon  the  subject  of  temperance,  we 
may  imagine  the  miracle  again  performed  by  which 
the  prophet  was  refreshed  with  water  proceeding 
from  the  jaw-bone  of  a  hass!  ' 

"  Oh,  dear!  "  exclaimed  the  "  horator,"  "  if  he  had 
only  stopped  at  jaw-bone  I  should  not  have  minded 
it;  but  that  awful  '  H  '  almost  extinguished  me."  1 

He  gives  an  exquisite  illustration  of  address  shown 
by  one  chairman  in  complying  with  custom  without 
sacrificing  his  own  views: 

"  '  Friends  '  often  presided  at  my  lectures,  and  on  one  occa- 
sion, a  gentleman  belonging  to  that  Society,  was  invited  to 
take  the  chair.  He  was  one  of  the  most  refined  and  cultivated 
men  I  ever  met.  We  were  often  his  guests,  and  were  charmed 
with  him.  He  was  in  the  committee-room,  when  the  chairman 
of  the  committee  asked  him  if  he  would  be  kind  enough,  before 

he  introduced  me  to  call  on  the  Rev.  W.  R ,  rector  of 

C Church,  Chelsea,  to  offer  prayer.  Now,  it  was  quite 

contrary  to  his  ideas  to  give  any  man  a  title,  or  to  ask  any  man 
to  pray.  He  smiled,  and  bowed  assent.  I  wondered  how  he 
would  manage — when  he  rose,  and  said  in  his  sweet  clear 
voice : 

'' '  If  W.  R.  feels  moved  to  pray,  this  audience  will  be 
silent.' 

"  It  was  admirably  done.  The  audience  was  silent,  the 
prayer  was  offered,  for  the  reverend  gentleman  did  feel  moved 
to  pray;  and  afterwards  I  was  introduced."1 

In  the  course  of  his  professional  career,  Mr.  Gough 


1  "  Autobiography,"  p.  334. 

1 "  Autobiography,"  pp.  334,  335. 


PERSONAL  EXPERIENCES  ON  THE  PLATFORM.        315 

traveled  450,000  miles  and  delivered  8,606  addresses 
before  more  than  9,000,000  hearers.  This  record  is 
without  a  parallel  in  ancient  or  modern  times.  Even 
for  this  wiry  itinerant  it  would  have  been  impossible 
if  he  had  not  gone  into  early  partnership  with 
steam. 


V. 

WHAT   MANNER   OF   MAN   WAS   THIS? 

THE  professional  season  of  1885-6,  opened  auspi- 
ciously. Mr.  Gough  had  never  been  in  greater  de- 
mand. Applications  lay  on  his  desk  in  the  "  Hillside" 
library  thick  and  white  as  snowflakes.  He  made 
selections,  mapped  down  his  route,  and  began  work. 
His  health  was  good,  and  had  been  through  the  pre- 
ceding summer. 

On  Mojiday,  the  igth  of  February.  1886,  his  itinerary 
brought  him  to  Ffankford,  asection  01  Philadelphia. 
That  evening  he  faced  an  immense  audience,  and 
commenced  his  lecture  in  usual  form.  He  had  spoken 
about  twenty  minutes,  when  he  stepped  forward,  and, 
with  thrilling  intensity  of  tone  and  an  appealing  ges- 
ture, said:  "  Young  man,  keep  your  record  clean." 
At  this  moment  his  hand  was  lifted  to  his  head  and 
pressed  against  the  place  wounded  in  Sandgate  in 
his  childhood, '  then  the  arm  dropped  and  hung 
limp, — he  tottered,  fell,  and  lay  helpless.  Amid  great 
confusion,  he  was  lifted  from  the  floor,  carried  to  the 
residence  of  his  friends  Dr.  and  Mrs.  R.  Bruce  Burns, 
in  Frankford,  and  tenderly  nursed  through  the  night. 
A  telegram  summoned  Mrs.  Gough  to  her  husband's 

1  Ante,  p.  26. 


WHAT    MANNER   OF    MAN    WAS   THIS?  317 

side.  Apoplexy!  as  plain  a  case,  said  the  physicians, 
as  was  ever  seen.  "Will  the  patient  live?"  was 
the  anxious  inquiry.  "  He  may,"  was  the  answer, 
"  but  his  activity  is  over."  That  would  have  been 
death  in  life  to  John  B.  Gough.  He  was  spared  the 
trial  of  chronic  invalidism.  Lapsing  into  uncon- 
sciousness, he  passed  away  on  the  i8th  inst.,  in  the 
sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age.  It  was  the  form  of  de- 
parture he  would  have  selected  had  the  choice  been 
given  him — death  in  the  harness. 

The  tireless  humanitarian  hated  ostentation.  He 
had  often  expressed  a  dislike  for  public  funerals. 
His  well-known  wishes  were  respected  in  the  last  sad 
rites.  A  quiet,  informal  gathering  of  more  immediate 
friends  and  neighbors  united  with  the  family  in  pay- 
ing a  final  tribute  of  respect  and  affection  at 
"  Hillside,"  on  the  24th  of  February.  The  Boylston 
pastor,  the  Rev.  Israel  Ainsworth,  and  the  Rev.  Drs. 
D.  E.  Means  and  George  H.  Gould,  of  Worcester,  and 
Wm.  M.  Taylor,  of  New  York,  conducted  the  simple 
services.  The  coffin  lay  in  the  library,  among  the 
books  he  loved  so  much — dear,  unconscious  intimates. 
Near  it,  across  a  chair,  hung  a  faded  handkerchief. 
This  handkerchief  had  a  history.  Years  before,  in 
England,  it  had  been  brought  to  Mrs.  Gough  by  a 
woman,  who  said: 

"  I  am  very  poor.  I  would  give  your  husband  a 
thousand  pounds,  if  I  had  it — I  can  only  give  him 
this  (presenting  the  handkerchief).  I  married  with 
the  fairest  prospects  before  me,  but  my  husband  took 
to  drinking,  and  everything  went,  until,  at  last,  I 
found  myself  in  one  miserable  room.  My  husband 
lay  drunk  in  the  corner,  and  my  sick  child  lay  moan- 


318  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

ing  on  my  knee.  I  wet  this  handkerchief  with  my 
tears.  My  husband  met  yours.  He  spoke  a  few  words 
and  gave  a  grasp  of  the  hand;  and  now  for  six  years 
my  husband  has  been  all  to  me  that  a  husband  can 
be  to  a  wife.  I  have  brought  your  husband  the  very 
handkerchief  I  wet  that  night  with  my  tears,  and  I 
want  him  to  remember  that  he  has  wiped  away  those 
tears  from  my  eyes,  I  trust  in  God  for  ever." 

This  was  among  the  most  prized  of  all  Mr.  Cough's 
mementoes.  Often,  in  showing  it,  he  would  say: 

"You  do  not  think  it  worth  three  cents,  but  you 
have  not  money  enough  to  buy  it  from  me." 

The  most  eloquent  lips  were  cold  and  tame  that 
day  compared  with  this  fluttering  rag!  If  all  the  tears 
he  had  wiped  away,  and  all  the  lives  he  had  been 
instrumental  in  rehabilitating,  could  have  spoken, 
what  a  testimony  they  would  have  given! 

On  the  following  Sunday,  memorial  services  were 
held  in  many  places,  from  Maine  to  California,  of 
which,  perhaps,  the  most  representative  one  was  that 
in  the  Mechanics'  Hall,  at  Worcester — the  scene  of 
some  of  the  orator's  most  notable  experiences.  Here, 
Protestants  and  Catholics,  clergymen  and  laymen, 
twined  upon  his  brow  a  garland  of  everlasting. 

A  man's  life  is  his  fittest  epitaph.  The  foregoing 
pages  recite  the  experiences,  reveal  the  emotions,  and 
repeat  the  words  of  John  B.  Cough.  They  have  been 
written  in  vain  if  the  reader  feels  any  need  of  elaborate 
characterization  in  this  closing  chapter.  Yet  a  few 
words  of  broad  and  final  estimate  may  be  adventured. 

John  B.  Cough's  gifts  have  overshadowed  his 
graces.  He  has  never  received  credit  for  the  sterling 


WHAT    MANNER   OF    MAN    WAS   THIS?  319 

moral  and  mental  faculties  which  fed  his  surpassing 
oratory.  Manhood  is  better,  and  rarer,  than  genius. 
Those  who  knew  the  great  advocate  of  temperance 
found  the  man  off  the  platform  even  more  admirable 
than  the  orator  on  it.  He  had  in  complete  develop- 
ment those  moral  and  religious  elements  of  character 
upon  which  Mr.  Webster  lays  such  stress  in  his  sketch 
of  that  great  lawyer,  Jeremiah  Mason.  In  his  career, 
morality  was  the  bud  and  religion  the  flower.  He 
had  the  Puritan  conscience.  Without  this,  his  sensi- 
tiveness and  natural  inclination  to  yield  would  have 
incapacitated  him  for  the  warfare  he  felt  called  to 
wage.  Steadied  by  this,  he  "  bore  right  up  and  steered 
right  on,"  undeterred  by  the  assaults  of  foes  or  by  the 
more  insidious  entreaties  of  mistaken  friends. 

True,  in  his  unsheltered  youth  he  sinned  grievously 
— so  did  Augustine.  But  as  Monica  planted  deep  in 
Augustine's  heart  the  leaven  which  by-and-by  leavened 
the  whole  lump,  so  did  Jane  Gongh  imbue  her  son  with 
principles  which  eventually  brought  him  to  himself 
and  dominated  his  after  life.  In  his  dissipated  days, 
Gough  made  debts,  as  many  as  his  different  resi- 
dences, and  as  large  as  his  opportunities.  Almost  as 
soon  as  he  reformed,  he  went  back  over  that  long, 
wide  track  and  paid  those  debts,  principal  and  interest. 
As  a  reformer,  his  sympathy  for  the  drunkard  did  not 
blind  him  to  the  sin  of  drunkenness,  which  he  never 
failed  to  condemn  as  sin. 

No  sooner  did  he  discover  his  peculiar  talent  than 
he  consecrated  it.  He  held  life  and  opportunity  to 
be  synonyms  of  duty.  Ability,  in  his  view,  was  a 
sacred  trust,  to  be  used  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
relief  of  man's  estate.  "  Pythagoras,"  says  Lord 


320  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

Bacon,  "  being  asked  what  he  was,  answered,  '  That 
if  Hiero  was  ever  at  the  Olympian  games,  he  knew  the 
manner,  that  some  came  as  merchants,  to  utter  their 
commodities,  and  some  came  to  make  good  cheer 
and  meet  their  friends,  and  some  came  to  look  on; 
and  that  he  was  one  of  them  that  came  to  look  on.' " 
Upon  which  the  great  Englishman  remarks:  "  But 
men  must  know  that  in  this  theater  of  men's  life,  it  is 
reserved  only  for  God  and  angels  to  be  lookers-on." 
Moral  and  religious  principle  lay  at  thr  bottom  of 
Gough's  character,  and  inspired  him  with  a  lofty 
purpose.  In  moral  earnestness  he  has  had  few  peers 
among  public  men. 

Intellectually,  Mr.  Gough  was  far  above  the  average. 
His  mind  was  at  once  deep  and  broad.  His  general- 
ization and  his  analysis  were  alike  admirable.  Order 
and  proportion  characterized  his  mental  constitu- 
tion. The  reflective  and  perceptive  faculties  were  in 
harmonious  adjustment.  Zeal  was  tempered  by 
prudence,  justice  by  mercy,  and  self-confidence  by 
modesty, —  which  latter  quality  was,  however,  in 
excess.  Who  ever  exceeded  him  in  humor?  and  who 
ever  subdued  humor  to  more  serious  uses  ?  His  mind 
was  preeminently  fair.  Judgment  held  the  scales 
even,  so  that  he  was  seldom  betrayed  either  in  private 
or  in  public,  into  an  intemperate  utterance. 

Indeed,  the  basis  of  Mr.  Gough's  mental  operations 
was  robust  common  sense, — "  so  called,"  according  to 
an  eminent  publicist,  "  not  because  it  is  so  very  com- 
mon a  trait  of  character  of  public  men,  but  because  it 
is  the  final  judgment  on  great  practical  questions  to 
which  the  mind  of  the  community  is  pretty  sure 
eventually  to  arrive."  Common  sense  held  Gough 


WHAT    MANNER   OF   MAN    WAS    THIS?  321 

aloof  from  the  excesses  into  which  his  ardent  tem- 
perament might  otherwise  have  hurried  him,  and 
poised  his  singularly  long  and  successful  apostle- 
ship  at  an  equal  remove  from  the  isms,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  "  doubtful  disputations,"  on  the  other 
hand,  of  an  era  of  "  sane  giants,  and  giants  gone  mad." 

Greatness  is  like  money;  it  is  easier  won  than  held. 
The  greatness  which  Gough  achieved  he  retained — 
further  proof  of  the  fine  balance  of  his  powers  His 
intellectual  resources  are  indicated  and  vindicated  by 
the  surprising  fact  that  he  was  able  to  argue  substan- 
tially one  question  before  two  hemispheres,  through 
all  the  changes  of  thought  and  feeling  on  the  subject 
of  half  a  century,  without  any  abatement  of  popular 
interest  either  in  the  theme  or  in  the  orator.  Nor  was 
this  due  to  his  oratory  alone.  For  oratorical  fashions, 
like  other  fashions,  have  their  day.  Mere  tricks  of 
speech  and  taking  mannerisms  tire  when  the  novelty 
wears  off.  It  was  the  good  sense  behind  the  utterance, 
and  winging  it,  that  sustained  the  orator  by  compel- 
ling respect  for  the  man. 

Speaking,  as  he  did,  with  abandon,  and  enacting  a 
drama,  half  farce  and  half  tragedy,  there  was  con- 
stant danger  of  saying  or  doing  something  objection- 
able. Yet  Mr.  Gough  never  did  a  vulgar  thing,  nor 
ever  said  a  word  that  would  bring  a  blush  to  the 
cheek  of  modesty.  A  remarkable  fact,  when  his 
origin  is  remembered.  "  Without  early  training," 
says  one  of  his  biographers,  "  or  early  culture,  he 
took  on  both  with  wonderful  facility  ;  was  welcomed, 
not  merely  tolerated,  in  the  best  society,  and  moved 
in  it  the  acknowledged  peer  of  gentlemen,  scholars, 
and  statesmen.  He  never  forgot  the  bitter  and 
21 


322  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

degrading  experiences  of  his  early  years  ;  but  no  vul- 
garity in  word,  and  no  discourtesy  or  rudeness  in  act 
ever  reminded  others  of  it." 

Of  his  generosity  the  rogues  who  plundered  him 
for  forty  years  could  speak,  if  they  would.  The  poor 
and  needy,  too,  fed  on  it,  and  were  grateful.  As  for 
his  sympathy,  it  was  as  wide  as  human  necessity.  He 
kindled  a  fire  on  the  hearthstone  of  his  heart,  at  which 
friend  or  foe,  tramp  or  gentleman  was  free  to  warm 
his  hands. 

Mr.  Gough's  social  disposition  proved  a  snare  at 
first  ;  but,  later,  it  became  a  source  of  delight  to  him- 
self and  to  others.  Throughout  America  he  was 
the  most  welcome  of  guests.  Children  (of  whom  he 
was  passionately  fond)  greeted  him  as  a  playmate, 
while  their  parents  found  in  him  a  fascinating  com- 
panion. He  romped  with  the  youngsters  and  talked 
with  the  elders  with  impartial  facility.  When  he 
went  away  it  was  hard  to  say  whether  nursery  or 
drawing-room  missed  him  the  most. 

But  it  was  in  his  own  home  that  this  great-hearted 
man  was  at  his  best.  He  loved  to  have  the  family 
around  him,  and  entertained  them  endlessly.  He 
had  two  domestic  passions — music  and  reading.  In 
the  twilight,  he  would  seat  himself  at  the  melodeon 
and  improvise,  without  knowing  a  note,  counting  the 
time  by  a  self-invented  system;  sometimes  (especially 
before  his  voice  was  broken  by  wear  and  tear)  burst- 
ing forth  into  song,  comic  or  pathetic  as  the  whim 
seized  him — Gough  at  the  melodeon,  as  on  the  plat- 
form! Oftenest,  perhaps,  he  read  aloud,  in  which 
charming  art  he  was  an  adept.  When  alone  in  the 
library,  if  any  passage  in  a  book  particularly  pleased 


WHAT    MANNER   OF   MAN    WAS   THIS?  323 

him,  he  would  rise,  find  some  one,  and  share  the  en- 
joyment by  reading  it  aloud. 

One  bad  habit  he  had — he  disliked  to  go  to  bed. 
If  he  could  get  any  one  to  sit  up  and  be  read  or 
talked  to,  he  would  read  or  talk  on  until  morning. 
Some  of  his  most  inimitable  stories  and  recitations 
were  given  to  these  midnight  audiences  of  the  fire- 
side. When  thus  belated  he  did  retire,  he  hated  to 
get  up,  and  would  sleep  long  after  the  other  members 
of  the  household  were  hard  at  work. 

The  relations  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gough  were 
ideal.  She  had  a  strong  character  of  the  best  New 
England  type,  and  supplied  any  defects  which  ex- 
isted in  him  with  feminine  tact  and  self-outpouring. 
The  comfort  of  his  home,  and  his  easy  circumstances, 
were  largely  due  to  her.1 

Mr.  Gough's  powers  as  a  speaker  have  been  analyzed 
in  previous  chapters.  He  was  preeminent  as  an  orator 
in  two  nations  of  orators.  Yet  he  had  one  singular 
defect.  Although  he  wrote  voluminously  and  spoke 
oftener  and  more  acceptably  than  almost  any  other 
man,  he  could__jiotcoin  striking  phrases.  He  never 
photographed  an  epocll,  ui  putllie  TvTTble  duty  of  the 
hour  in  an  inspired  sentence.  Talleyrand  crowded  a 
great  truth  for  all  time  in  a  mot — "  Everybody  is  clev- 
erer than  anybody."  The  younger  Pitt,  in  moving 
for  a  committee  to  examine  into  the  state  of  English 
representation,  in  the  days  of  close  boroughs, 
asserted  that  these  were  the  strongholds  of  that  cor- 
ruption to  which  he  attributed  all  the  calamities  of 


1  Mrs.  Gougli  died  at  "  Hillside,"  after  a  long  illness,  April  19, 
1891.      Upon  her  decease,  "  Hillside  "  passed  out  of  the  family. 


324  JOHN    B.    GOUGH. 

the  nation,  and  condensed  the  evil  in  a  phrase  which 
was  soon  on  all  lips:  "  This  corruption  has  grown 
with  the  growth  of  England,  and  strengthened  with 
her  strength,  but  has  not  diminished  with  her  dimi- 
nution, nor  decayed  with  her  decay."  Carlyle 
summed  up  the  history  of  a  hundred  wretched  years 
in  a  thrilling  climax;  "  The  eighteenth  century  com- 
mitted suicide  by  blowing  its  brains  out  in  the  French 
Revolution."  Wm.  H.  Seward  focused  the  philosophy 
of  the  civil  war  in  the  phrase  "  irrepressible  conflict." 
Charles  Sumner  indicated  the  public  policy  of  the  war 
for  the  Union,  when,  in  pleading  for  the  arming  of 
the  blacks,  he  cried:  "  The  question  is  not  whether 
we  shall  carry  the  war  into  Africa,  but  whether  we 
shall  carry  Africa  into  the  war."  Gladstone  declared 
that  "  the  European  struggle  in  one  of  the  masses 
against  the  classes."  Macaulay's  prose  is  as  epigram- 
matic, as  Pope's  verse.  Cervantes,  in  Don  Quixote, 
supplied  the  whole  Spanish  nation  with  proverbial 
philosophy. 

Gough's  speeches  and  books  are  searched  in  vain 
for  such  happy  inspirations.  He  has  left  few  memo- 
rable sayings.  This  was  not  due  to  his  lack  of  educa- 
tion. The  defect  was  constitutional.  Richard  Brins- 
ley  Sheridan  owed  no  more  to  schools  than  Gough 
did.  Nevertheless,  Sheridan's  speeches  are  full  of 
mdts,  while  his  plays  sparkle  with  epigrams.  Bunyan 
was  not  a  learned  man,  yet  the  immortal  tinker  gave 
the  world  its  finest  allegory.  Shakespeare  was  not  a 
scholar;  but  his  plays  are  handbooks  of  familiar 
quotations.  The  truth  is,  that  Gough  did  not  possess 
the  literary  faculty.  He  could  not  balance  dainty 
periods,  nor  utter  brilliant  phrases.  He  was  clumsy 


WHAT    MANNER    OF    MAN    WAS    THIS?  325 

with  the  pen,  and,  in  speaking,  vitalized  his  matter  by 
his  manner.  His  style  was  discursive — made  so 
partly  by  the  habits  of  the  platform,  but  more  by  the 
bent  of  his  genius. 

We  are  confident  that  an  academic  education  would 
have  hurt  more  than  it  could  have  helped  him.  Sam- 
son was  probably  a  better-looking  man  after  Delilah 
had  shaved  off  his  hair — but  his  strength  was  gone! 
A  fastidious  culture  would  have  refined  away  much 
of  Gough's  popular  power.  What  he  might  have 
gained  in  routine  knowledge  would  have  poorly  com- 
pensated us  for  what  he  must  have  lost  in  spontaneity. 
One  day  on  a  journey  he  met  Wendell  Phillips.  In 
the  course  of  their  chat  he  lamented  his  lack  of  edu- 
cation. "  Why,"  replied  the  great  master  of  classic 
speech,  "  any  scholar  who  hears  you  perceives  at  once 
your  lack  of  educational  training,  so-called;  but" — 
added  he,  with  a  smile — "perhaps  in  your  case  the 
world  is  all  the  better  for  that." 

One  memorable  sentence  Mr.  Gough  did  utter — 
not  because  of  any  sparkle  in  it,  but  because  of  its 
practical  turn  and  accurate  self-photography.  All 
the  events  of  his  career, — the  tragic  mournfulnessand 
failure  of  its  opening,  the  moral  jubilancy  and  triumph 
of  its  close,  those  five  hundred  thousand  miles  of  weari- 
some travel,  the  nine  thousand  fervid  lectures,  the  nine 
millions  of  eager  hearers  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic, 
— are  condensed  and  voiced  in  his  last  and  dying 
words:  "  Keep  your  record  clean  !  " 


INDEX. 


Abbott,  Lyman  (quoted),  164,  184. 

Acquinas,  86. 

Adams,  John,  100. 

Addison,  Josepli,  223. 

Albucasis,  the  Arabian  inventor  of  distillation,  87. 

Alcohol,  the  inebriating  principle,  87  ;  history  of,  87. 

Alliance,  The  United  Kingdom,  174,  235. 

America,  Colonial,  Universal  use  of  liquors  in,  99. 

Ames,  Fisher,  100. 

Appetite,  Influence  of  religion  on,  282. 

Aristotle   (quoted),  86. 

Arnold.  Dr.,  of  Rugby  (mentioned),  241. 

Arnot,  The  Rev.  William,  203,  237. 

Augustine,  St.,  319. 

Bacon,  Lord  (mentioned),  51,  320. 

Beatty,  Mrs..  154-155. 

Bede,'  The  Venerable.  86. 

Beecher,  The  Rev.  Henry  Ward,  152,  213. 

Beecher,  The  Rev.  Dr.  Lyman,  61,  go,  131-132,  140. 

Beman,  The  Rev.  Dr.,  133. 

Bennett,  Billy,  Anecdote  of,  24. 

Berlin,  City  of,  152. 

Boleyn,  Anne  (mentioned),  22. 

Booth,  Edwin,  Letter  of,  on  theater,  59-60. 

Bowly,  Samuel,  240. 

Bright,  John,  161,  204,  240. 

Britain,  Great,  Consumption  of  liquors  in,  86;  effects,  86-89. 

Buckingham,   J.    S.,   president   of    the    London   Temperance 

League,  144,  145. 
Burke,  Edmund  (quoted),  33;  268. 
Burns,  Robert,  33;  291. 
Bunyan,  John,  324. 
Byron,  Lord  (mentioned),  152. 


3^8  INDEX. 

Cairns,  Lord  High  Chancellor,  240. 

Campbell,  The  Rev.  Dr.  G.  C.,  (quoted),  145,  175,  179. 

Canterbury,  Cathedral  of  (mentioned),  21. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  324. 

Cervantes,  324. 

Chapin,  The  Rev.  Dr.  E.  H.  (mentioned),  213. 

Chicago,  170. 

Choate,  Rufus,  100. 

Collier,  Jeremy,  59. 

Collier,  William,  founder  of  The  National  Philanthropist,  go. 

Cowper,  the  poet,  271. 

Crime  caused  by  liquor,  227-229. 

Cruikshank,  George,  141,  155,  180,  182,  237. 

Cruikshankiana,  219. 

Curtis,  George  Wm.,  213. 

Cuyler,  The  Rev.  Dr.  T.  L.,  171,  270,  271. 

Dante,  the  poet  (mentioned),  51. 

Dickens,  Chas.  (quoted),  108,  157,  247,  249. 

Distillation,  how  produced,  87  ;  cheapens  alcohol,  87. 

Dover,  City  of  (mentioned),  21. 

Dow,  Neal,  174,  175. 

Drunkenness,  History  of,  86-90;  proposed  remedies  for,  89-91; 

main  cause  of  the  profligacy  and  squalor  of  London,  255. 
Dutton,  The  Rev.  Dr.  (mentioned),  171. 

Edwards,  Dr.  Justin,  90. 
Elizabeth,  Queen  (mentioned),  21. 
English,  Mind  of  the,  195-196. 

Established   Church  of  England,  Attitude  of  the,  toward  tem- 
perance, 240-241. 
Everett,  Edward,  100,  213. 
Exeter  Hall,  143,  144.  151,  181,  205.  206,  241. 

Farrar,  Canon  (quoted),  229,  239,  241. 
Fisk,  Gen.  Clinton  B.,  267. 
Florence,  City  of  (mentioned),  51. 
Folkestone,  21,  155. 
France  (mentioned),  21. 

Garrison,  Wm.  Lloyd,  90. 

Gladstone,  Wm.  E.,  324. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver  (mentioned),  51. 

Gough,  Jane,  gives  birth    to  John  B.,   17;    schoolmistress,  18  ; 

religious  views,  18;  when  she  met  her  future  husband,  21  ; 

consents  to  her  son's   emigration,  34 ;  visits   son  on   ship- 


INDEX.  329 

board,  36;  pins  Scripture  texts  and  references  on  John's 
clothing,  39;  letters  to  her  son,  41,42;  goes  to  America,  46; 
effect  of  hard  times  on,  48;  death  of,  49;  burial  in  Potter's 
Field,  50. 

Gough,  John,  life  as  a  soldier,  17;  a  Methodist,  18  ;  stationed 
at  Sandgate,  21  ;  drills  son,  23.  24;  (mentioned),  29;  visits 
son  on  shipboard,  36 ;  emigrates  to  America,  127,  128;  is 
supported  by  his  son  until  his  death,  128. 

Gough,  John  B.,  birth,  17  ;  name,  18  ;  teaches  school,  19;  early 
traits,  19,  20;  local  haunts,  22;  smuggling  incident,  23; 
playing  soldier,  23,  24 ;  love  of  fun,  24-26;  goes  to  mill,  26 ; 
meets  with  an  accident,  26,  27;  attends  a  fair,  27;  early 
duties,  28 ;  earns  money  by  reading,  28  ;  leaves  home  for 
America,  34 ;  first  view  of  London,  35  ;  ship  becalmed  off 
Sandgate,  36;  sees  parents  and  sister,  36;  the  voyage,  36; 
makes  new  friends,  37 ;  reaches  America,  37 ;  journey  up  the 
Hudson,  38 ;  Oneida  county  farm,  38;  opinion  of  American 
weather,  39;  finds  fresh  proofs  of  his  mother's  love  and  care, 
39;  letter  to  mother  (quoted),  39,  40;  leaves  farm,  42;  in 
New  York,  43 ;  apprentice  in  bookbindery,  43,  44 ;  first 
boarding-place,  44;  meets  a  Good  Samaritan,  45;  bright 
prospects,  45  ;  urges  parents  to  emigrate,  45  ;  housekeeping 
with  mother  and  sister,  46;  hard  times,  47;  mother's  death, 
49;  his  feelings,  49,  50;  the  pauper  funeral,  50;  effect  of 
mother's  death  on  him,  50-52;  in  good  company,  52  ;  changes 
lodgings,  55;  sickness,  55;  visits  Oneida  county  farm,  55; 
returns  to  New  York,  55;  becomes  reckless,  56;  accomplish- 
ments, 56;  begins  to  drink,  56;  goes  to  Rhode  Island,  57; 
drinking  habits,  58;  acquaintance  with  actors,  58;  becomes 
one,  58;  early  views  of  theater,  58  ;  effects  of  theater  on  him, 
60;  line  ol  characters  on  stage,  60;  leaves  the  stage,  61  ; 
reminiscences  of  the  stage  (quoted),  61-63  >  a  drunkard,  64; 
goes  to  Newburyport,  Mass.,  64;  ships  on  fishing-smack, 
64 ;  the  storm,  his  account  (quoted),  65-66 ;  marriage,  66  ; 
acquaintances  cut  him,  67;  views  on  a  drunkard's  pride 
(quoted),  67,  68 ;  out  of  work,  68 ;  opens  a  bookbindery,  68  ; 
bankruptcy,  69;  joins  minstrel  company,  69;  effect  of  drunk- 
enness on  his  nature,  70;  sends  wife  to  sister  at  Providence, 
R.  I. ,71  ;  the  spree,  71-72;  delirium  tremens,  his  description 
of  (quoted),  72-73;  wife  returns,  73;  wandering,  74;  goes  to 
Worcester,  Mass.,  74;  death  of  wife  and  child,  74;  works  at 
trade  again,  74;  drinks  worse  than  ever,  74.  75;  disturbs  a 
church  service,  75  ;  delirium  tremens  again,  76  ;  contemplates 
suicide,  76;  the  touch  on  the  shoulder,  79-83;  signs  the 
pledge,  83;  in  hell,  83;  effects  of  self-respect,  84;  second 


330  INDEX. 

speech  on  temperance,  85  ;  humble  beginnings  us  a  speaker, 
85-86;  becomes  a  Washingtonian  lecturer,  91  ;  breaks  his 
pledge,  92-94 ;  re-signs  the  pledge,  93 ;  sees  the  need  of 
religious  principle,  94-95  ;  at  work  again,  99  ;  early  fees,  100  ; 
first  speech  in  Boston,  100;  arrested  for  debt,  101  ;  "  tem- 
perancing"  tours,  102;  second  marriage,  102;  first  speech  in 
New  York  City,  104;  lectures  at  various  points,  104,  105; 
first  view  of  Niagara  Falls,  and  impressions  of  (quoted),  105; 
unites  with  the  Church,  105  ;  temperance  demonstration  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  105-106;  apostrophe  to  water,  106;  visits 
Philadelphia,  107;  staple  of  his  speeches  at  this  time,  99-109; 
early  appearance  and  manner  of  speaking,  iio-iu  ;  writes 
his  autobiography,  109;  over-sensitive  disposition,  no;  vul- 
nerable point,  1 10  ;  story  of  the  "  drugged  "  soda-water,  1 10- 
114;  serious  illness,  112,  113;  breaks  with  Washingtonian- 
ism,  115;  his  criticisms  of  that  movement  (quoted),  116,  117  ; 
views  on  prohibitive  law  (quoted),  117-118;  his  fees  criti- 
cised, 118;  lack  of  self-esteem,  119;  visits  Virginia,  119; 
description  of  slave  auction,  119,  120;  mock  serenade  in 
Lynchburg,  120;  speech  there,  120-121;  brain  fever,  121; 
speech  to  negroes  in  Richmond,  122;  views  of  slavery,  123; 
work  among  children,  123;  summary  of  five  years,  123- 
124;  mobbed  in  Faneuil  hall,  124-125 ;  timidity  before  an 
audience,  126.  127;  his  father  arrives  in  America,  127,  128; 
moves  from  Roxbury  to  Boston,  128  ;  moves  from  Boston  to 
"Hillside,"  128;  "Hillside"  described,  128;  lecture  habits, 
128;  visits  Canada,  129-131  ;  cells  upon  two  ladies,  129-121  ; 
early  traveling,  131;  at  Pittsburgh,  Alleghany  City,  and 
Cincinnati,  131;  writing  the  pledge  in  albums,  132;  at 
Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  132;  laughable  experience  at  Col- 
burg,  Canada,  133;  effects  of  his  advocacy,  134,  135; 
invited  to  Great  Britain,  139;  reluctance  to  go,  139,  140; 
lands  at  Liverpool,  140 ;  reaches  London,  141  ;  day  of  his 
English  debut,  143;  evening  of  debut,  145;  newspaper 
account  of  debut,  146-150;  in  Scotland,  152,  153;  speaks  at 
Edinburgh,  153  ;  fete  in  Surrey  Gardens,  153  ;  visits  Sandgate, 
154,  155;  contract  with  London  Temperance  League  for 
two  years'  work,  156;  work  on  and  off  the  platform,  156,  157; 
reference  to  labors  (quoted),  157-158;  an  incident,  158,  159; 
a  rencontre  at  Glasgow,  159,  160;  thinks  the  cause  better 
organized  in  Britain  than  in  America,  161,  162;  British 
hospitality,  163;  special  work,  163;  farewell  fete,  164;  re- 
sult of  first  visit,  164,  165;  at  home,  169;  first  visit  to  the 
Northwest,  169;  opinion  of  Chicago,  170;  prophesies  the 
future  of  the  Northwest  (quoted),  170;  vacation,  171;  signs 


INDEX.  331 

contract  for  second  British  tour,  173,  174;  remarks  on  Dow's 
visit  to  England,  174,  175;  letter  to  G.  C.  Campbell  on  tem- 
perance in  the  United  States,  175;  controversy  stirred  by 
this  letter,  175,  176;  departure  for  Britain,  176;  arrives  in 
England,  179;  personal  detraction,  179;  speech  in  Queen 
Street  Hall,  180;  in  London,  181  ;  rents  apartments  in  Edin- 
burgh, 181  ;  begins  English  itinerary,  181,  182;  learns  of 
a  libelous  letter,  182  ;  name  of  libeler,  182,  183;  brings  suit 
for  libel,  184;  feelings  hurt  by  abuse,  184,  185;  resumes 
work,  186;  visits  the  continent,  186;  opinion  of  Paris,  186, 
187;  first  view  of  Mt.  Blanc,  187,  188;  opinion  of  sobriety 
of  wine-growing  countries,  188,  189;  anecdotes  of  travel, 
189;  back  in  England,  190;  crosses  to  Ireland,  190;  views 
on  the  Irish  question,  191,  192  ;  remarks  on  famine  in  1848, 
193;  in  the  streets  of  Dublin  and  Cork,  193,  194;  views  of 
English  morals  and  manners,  195,  sg.;  activity  of  good 
women  in  England,  196,  197  ;  characterizes  English  society, 
197-206;  condition  of  manufacturing  districts,  199,  200; 
condition  of  miners  and  agricultural  laborers,  200,  201  ; 
scene  in  Bedfordshire,  201 ;  refers  to  condition  of  working 
people  in  Scotland  and  Wales,  201,  202;  describes  Dr. 
Guthrie,  202,  203  ;  meets  Dr.  Arnot,  203  ;  acquaintance  with 
other  celebrities,  204;  favorite  resorts  in  London,  204;  his 
account  of  farewell  speech  in  Exeter  Hall,  205,  206;  good- 
bye to  Britain,  206 ;  record  of  work  done,  206 ;  spends 
birthday  at  "  Hillside,"  209;  various  welcomes  home,  209; 
visits  Joel  Stratton  on  death  bed,  210 ;  speaks  at  his  funeral, 
2ii  ;  provides  for  Stratton's  wife,  211;  anecdote  of  travel, 
2il;  his  new  departure  in  lecturing,  211  ;  success  of  new 
departure,  212;  titles  of  lectures,  212,  213;  contrasted  with 
other  lecturers,  213  ;  remarks  of  enemies  on  his  new  depar- 
ture, 213;  demand  for  services,  214;  charged  with  growing 
rich,  214;  his  table  of  average  receipts  for  lectures,  215  ;  his 
comments  on  it  (quoted),  215,  216;  years  of  Civil  War,  216; 
his  connection  with,  outlined  by  himself.  216,  117;  "silver 
wedding  "  celebrated  at  "  Hillside,"  218,  219  ;  valuable  gifts, 
219;  revises  and  enlarges  "Autobiography,"  222;  remarks  on 
disputed  authorship  of  first  "Autobiography,"  222  ;  distinction 
between  speaking  and  writing,  222,  223;  effects  of  liquor 
traffic  (quoted),  224,  225  ;  his  story  of  two  clergymen,  225  ; 
domestic  ravages,  225-229;  effect  in  crime,  229;  shows  the 
effects  in  three  columns,  230 ;  his  question,  231  ;  third  British 
tour,  235 ;  enthusiastic  reception,  235 ;  his  account  of  the 
origin  of  the  term  "  tee-total  "(quoted),  235,  236  ;  describes 
Westminster  Abbey  and  neighborhood,  236,  237 ;  revisits 


332  INDEX. 

the  Continent,  237,  238;  first  speech  in  Spurgeon's  Taber- 
nacle, 238,  239;  finds  temperance  in  fashion,  240,  241; 
changed  attitude  of  the  Established  Church,  240,  241  ;  visits 
"Seven  Dials"  (quoted),  241,  242;  his  estimate  of  Dr. 

ioseph  Parker,  243,  244;  his  estimate  of  Spurgeon,  244,  245  ; 
is  anecdote  of  the  hornet,  246 ;  in  London  streets,  247 ;  re- 
marks on  London  (quoted),  247,  248;  "  Vot's  hup,  cabby?  " 
(quoted),  248;  street  boys  and  girls,  248,  249  ;  interviews  a 
boy  thief,  249;  scene  in  Gray's  Inn  lane,  250,  251  ;  remarks 
on  costermongers,  252.  253;  city  missionaries  and  street 
preachers,  254;  his  ideas  of  practical  religion,  254,  255; 
speaks  at  "Five  Dials,"  255;  speaks  in  Hoxton  Hall,  256, 
257;  returns  home,  265  ;  writes  "Sunlight  and  Shadow," 
265  ;  prepares  "  Platform  Echoes,"  266  ;  leaves  Republican 
party  for  Prohibition  party,  266,  267  ;  letters  in  explana- 
tion. 268,  269;  his  catholicity  of  spirit,  269;  his  tribute 
to  the  homes  where  he  had  been  entertained,  270;  in- 
timacy with  Rev.  Dr.  Wm.  M.  Taylor,  270;  and  with  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Cuyler,  270-271  ;  ever-increasing  hatred  of  the 
drink,  272  ;  his  patience  tried  by  palterers,  272-273  ;  his  phi- 
losophy of  temperance,  274;  alcohol  alien  to  life,  274-276; 
pathology  of  drunkenness,  276;  alcoholic  stages,  276-277; 
his  legend  of  the  three  choices,  277-278  ;  sinfulness  of  drink- 
ing, 278-279;  views  on  relation  of  wine  to  civilization,  279- 
280;  his  remedies  for  drunkenness.  280-281  ;  total  abstinence, 
280-281  ;  appeal  to  moderate  drinkers,  281  ;  value  of  religious 
principles,  281-282;  religion  and  appetite.  282;  condemns 
use  of  strong  wine  at  communion,  282-283;  comments  on 
controversy  over  Bible  wines,  283 ;  his  basis  of  Christian 
opposition  to  drinking,  283-284 ;  queer  incidences  of  exegesis, 
284;  place  of  prohibitory  law  in  temperance  reform,  284-285  ; 
appreciation  of  cooperative  agents  and  agencies,  286,  287 ; 
tribute  to  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  (quoted),  287;  opinion  of  refuges 
and  homes,  287  ;  his  opinion  of  temperance  restaurants,  287, 
288;  an  optimist,  288;  remarks  on  progress,  289,290;  his 
mastery  of  the  temperance  cyclopaedia,  290,  291 ;  various 
experiences  with  beggars,  borrowers,  and  bores,  292-300; 
adventures  on  the  platform,  301,  302;  methods  of  prepara- 
tion, 303  ;  use  of  illustration,  303  ;  use  of  stories,  304;  teaches 
himself  to  think,  304;  change  of  method  of  preparation,  304; 
lack  of  logic,  305,  306  ;  value  of  vocal  training,  306.  307  ;  his 
fear  of  an  audience,  307,  308  ;  self-possession,  308;  power  of 
repartee,  309,  310;  a  cigar  story,  310,  31 1  ;  how  to  embarrass  a 
speaker  (quoted),  311  ;  how  to  help  one  illustrated,  311,312; 
habit  of  selecting  persons  to  talk  to,  312;  lack  of  verbal 


INDEX.  333 

memory,  313;  some  of  his  chairmen,  313,  314;  statistics  of 
his  professional  life,  314,  315  ;  stricken  with  apoplexy  while 
speaking  in  Philadelphia,  316;  his  death,  316;  funeral  at 
"  Hillside,"  317,  318 ;  various  memorial  services,  318  ;  final 
estimate,  318-325. 

Gough,  Mrs.  Mary,  Sketch  of,  102 ;  marries  John  B.,  102- 
103;  first  home  in  Roxbury.  103;  joins  Mt.  Vernon  Church, 
Boston,  105;  residence  at  "  Hillside,"  128  ;  goes  with  her  hus- 
band to  Cincinnati,  131  ;  accompanies  him  to  Great  Britain, 
141;  second  English  visit,  176;  visits  the  continent,  186; 
views  skulls  at  Cologne,  189;  death  of  two  brothers,  209; 
her  husband's  traveling  companion,  215;  adopts  family  of 
younger  brother,  218;  letter  of  thanks  to  Silver- Wedding 
Committee,  220,  221 ;  goes  with  husband  to  Britain  in  1878, 
235  :  a  true  helpmeet,  323  ;  death,  323  (note). 

Gough,  Miss,  sister  of  John  B.,  19;  (mentioned),  36;  emigrates 
to  America,  46  ;  out  of  work,  47  ;  announces  mother's  death 
to  John,  49;  changes  lodgings,  and  gets  work,  55;  married, 
and  sends  for  her  brother's  wife,  71,  218:  prosperity,  218. 

Gould,  The  Rev.  Dr.  George.  171,  176. 

Grant,  Deacon  Moses,  61,  100,  101,  103,  124-127,  140,  151. 

Guthrie,  The  Rev.  Dr.  Thos.,  153,  202,  203,  237. 

Hall,  The  Rev.  Dr.  John,  190. 

Hall,  The  Rev.  Dr.  Newman  (quoted),  145,  203. 

Harrison,  Smith,  141,  153. 

Harvey  (mentioned),  21. 

Hawkins,  J.  H.  W.,  91. 

Henry  VIII.  (mentioned),  21,  22. 

Herodotus,  86. 

Hogarth,  the  painter,  87. 

Ireland,  194. 

Irish,  The,  characterized,  192. 

Iti,  Chinese  inventor  of  distillation,  87. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  51,96,  301. 

Katherine  of  Aragon  (mentioned),  22. 

Kelly,  Sir  Fitzroy,  240. 

King,  The  Rev.  Dr.  Starr,  213. 

Lamb,  Chas.,  247,  271. 
Lawson,  Wm.,  M.  P.,  240. 
Lees,  F.  R.,  182-185. 
Liberator,  The  (mentioned),  90. 


334  INDEX. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  33. 

Liquor  traffic,  267,  268. 

Livermore,  Mrs.  Mary  /. .,  267. 

London,  City  of.  152,  180,  247,  248. 

London  city  missionaries  and  street  preachers,  254. 

London  Temperance  League,  140,  142,  174. 

Lyceum,  The,  212. 

Macaulay,  324. 

Afam'a  a  potu,  the  drunkard's  liturgy,  225. 

Marshall,  The  Hon.  Thos.,  116,  117. 

Mason,  Jeremiah,  319. 

Mathew,  Father,   192. 

Mississippi,  Early  prohibitory  status  of,  90. 

Monica,  mother  of  St.  Augustine,  319. 

Morley,  Samuel,  239. 

National  and  Scottish  Temperance  League,  The,  174,  235. 
New  York  City,  152. 

Ohio,  Early  prohibitory  legislation  in,  90. 
Otis,  James  (mentioned),  loo. 
Otway  (mentioned),  51. 

Paris.  City  of,  140,  152,  186,  187. 

Parker,  The  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph,  243,  244,  246. 

Pathology  of  drunkenness,  Wilson's,  276. 

Philanthropist,   The   National,  first  temperance  newspaper, 

90. 

Phillips,  Wendell  (quoted),  89,  100,  211,  213,  247,  267,  325. 
Pierce,  Franklin,  102. 
Pitt,  The  younger,  323. 
Plato  (quoted),  86. 

Pledge,  the  temperance,  Philosophy  of,  161-162. 
Poverty,  characterized,  28-29. 
Prohibition,  Lawfulness  of,  285-286  ;  dependence   upon  public 

sentiment,  135,  287. 
Prohibition  party,  266,  267. 

Quincy,  Josiah,  100. 

Reed,  Sir  Charles,  238. 
Republican  party,  267. 
Richardson,  Dr.,  240,  274,  276,  277. 
Rum,  Footprints  of,  224-231. 
Rush,  Dr.  Benjamin,  90. 


INDEX.  335 

Sandgate  (mentioned),  17;  sketch  of,  21  ;  occupation  of  inhabi- 
tants, 23. 

Sandgate,  Castle  of,  21,  22. 
Scottish,  The,  Temperance  League,  174. 
Seward,  Wm.  H..  324. 
Seymour,  Katherine  (mentioned),  22. 
Shaftesbury,  The  Earl  of,  161,  204. 
Shakespeare,  324. 
Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  324. 
Smith,  The  Rev.  Matthew  Hale,  91. 
Smollet,  the  historian  (quoted),  86,  87. 
Spurgeon,  The  Rev.  C.  H.,  243-246. 
St.  John,  John  P.,  267. 
Stanley,  Dean  Arthur  P.,  237,  255. 
Stanley,  The  Hon.  Maude.  255. 
Stratton,  Joel,  79-82,  210,  211. 
Sumner,  Chas.,  214,324. 

Tacitus  (quoted),  86. 

Tallyrand,  Mot  of,  323. 

Taylor,  The  Rev.  Dr.  Wm.  M.,  270,  317. 

Temperance,  defined,  90;  history  of,  90;  formation  of  American 
Society  for  the  Promotion  of.  90;  growth  of,  91  ;  relation  of 
religious  principle  to,  95;  relation  of  prohibition  10.95,96; 
high-water  days,  133,  134;  state  of  the  cause  in  Great 
Britain  in  1853-4,  161  ;  low-water  mark  in  America  in 
1855-65,  172;  causes,  172,  173:  result  of  Father  Mathew's 
work  in  Ireland,  192. 

Temple,  Dr.,  241. 

Tennessee,  Early  prohibitory  laws  of,  90. 

Theater,  State  of,  to-day,  59;  letter  of  Edwin  Booth  on  (quoted), 
59-60;  condition  of,  in  Cough's  youth,  61. 

Thompson,  Sir  Henry,  240. 

Total  abstinence.  Importance  of,  to  reformed  men,  94;  to  sus- 
ceptible men,  95-96. 

Vienna.  City  of,  152. 

Vine,  Arabian  fable  of  the,  277. 

Walpole.   Horace,  271. 

Washington ianism.  Origin  of,  91  ;  defects  of,  91 ;  criticisms  of 

advocates  of,  upon  Gough,  115-119. 
Webster.  Daniel.  89.  100,  319. 
Westminster,  The  Duke  of.  240. 
Whittington  club-room,  152. 


336  INDEX. 

Wilberforce,  Canon,  241. 

Wilberforce,  Wm.,  29. 

Willard,  Miss  Frances  E..  108,  267. 

Wilson,  Chas.,  141. 

Wilson,  Wm..  182. 

Wine,  Influence  of.  on  civilization   279,  280. 

Woods.  Dr.  Leonard.  90. 

Woolley,  John  G.  (quoted) ,  273. 

Xenophon  (quoted),  86. 


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